QUALITY 
STREET 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

GIFT  OF 
MR.    J.    L.    PETERSON 


THE  UNIFORM  EDITION  OF 
THE  PLAYS  OF  J.  M.  B ARRIE 


QUALITY  STREET 


THE  WORKS  OF  J.  M.  BARRIE. 


NOVELS,  STORIES,  PLAYS,  AND 

SKETCHES. 

Uniform  Edition. 

AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS.  BETTER  DEAD. 
WHEN  A  MAN'S  SINGLE. 
A  WINDOW  IN  THRUMS.  AN  EDINBURGH 

ELEVEN. 

THE  LITTLE  MINISTER. 
SENTIMENTAL  TOMMY. 

MY  LADY  NICOTINE,  MARGARET  OGILVY. 
TOMMY  AND   GRIZEL. 
THE  LITTLE  WHITE  BIRD. 
PETER  AND  WENDY.* 

Also 

HALF  HOURS.  DER  TAG. 

ECHOES  OF  THE  WAR. 


PLAYS. 
Uniform  Edition. 
PETER  PAN. 
MARY  ROSE. 
DEAR  BRUTUS. 
A  KISS  FOR  CINDERELLA. 
ALICE  SIT-BY-THE-FIRE. 
WHAT  EVERY  WOMAN  KNOWS. 
QUALITY   STREET. 
THE  ADMIRABLE  CRICHTON. 
ECHOES  OF  THE  WAR. 

Containing :  The  Old  Lad;  Shows  Her  Medals 
— The  New  Word — Barbara's  Wedding — A 
Well-Remembered  Voice. 
HALF  HOURS. 

Containing :    Pantaloon — The    Twelve-Pound 
Look— Rosalind— The  WULj 


PLAYS  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


INDIVIDUAL  EDITIONS. 
COURAGE. 
PETER   PAN   IN   KENSINGTON   GARDENS. 

Illustrated  by  ARTHUR  RACKHAM. 
PETER  AND   WENDY. 

Illustrated  by  F.  D.  BEDFORD. 
PETER   PAN  AND   WENDY. 

Illustrated  by  Miss  ATTWILL. 
TOMMY  AND  GRIZEL. 

Illustrated  by  BERNARD  PARTRIDGE. 
MARGARET  OGILVY. 

»*»  For  particulars  concerning  The  Thistle 
Edition  of  the  Works  of  J.  M.  Barrie,  sold  only 
by  subscription,  send  for  circular. 

NEW  YORK:  CHARLES  SCRTBNER'S  SONS 


THE   PLAYS    OF 
J.   M.   BARRIE 


QUALITY  STREET 


A    COMEDY 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK 


• 
3 


COPYRIGHT,  1918, 
J.  M.  BARRIE 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Att  rights  reserved  under  the  International  Copyright  Act. 
Performance  forbidden  and  right  of  representation  reserved. 
Application  for  the  right  of  performing  this  play  must  be 
made  to  Charles  Frokman,  Inc.,  Empire  Theatre,  New  York. 


ACT  I 


ACT    I 

THE  BLUE  AND   WHITE  ROOM 

The  scene  is  the  blue  and  white  room  in  the  house  of 
the  Misses  Susan  and  Phoebe  Throssel  in  Quality 
Street ;  and  in  this  little  country  town  there  is  a 
satisfaction  about  living  in  Quality  Street  which  even 
religion  cannot  give.  Through  the  bowed  window 
at  the  back  we  have  a  glimpse  of  the  street.  It  is 
pleasantly  broad  and  grass-grown,  and  is  linked  to 
the  outer  world  by  one  demure  shop,  whose  door 
rings  a  bell  every  time  it  opens  and  shuts.  Thus  by 
merely  peeping,  every  one  in  Quality  Street  can  know 
at  once  who  has  been  buying  a  Whimsy  cake,  and 
usually  why.  This  bell  is  the  most  familiar  sound 
of  Quality  Street.  Now  and  again  ladies  pass  in 
their  pattens,  a  maid  perhaps  protecting  them  with  an 
umbrella,  for  flakes  of  snow  are  falling  discreetly. 
Gentlemen  in  the  street  are  an  event ;  but,  see,  just 
as  we  raise  the  curtain,  there  goes  the  recruiting 
sergeant  to  remind  us  that  we  are  in  the  period  of  the 
Napoleonic  wars.  If  he  were  to  look  in  at  the  window 


4  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

of  the  blue  and  white  room  all  the  ladies  there  as- 
sembled would  draw  themselves  up  ;  they  know  him 
for  a  rude  fellow  who  smiles  at  the  approach  of  maiden 
ladies  and  continues  to  smile  after  they  have  passed. 
However,  he  lowers  his  head  to-day  so  that  they  shall 
not  see  him,  his  present  design  being  converse  with  Hie 
Misses  ThrosseVs  moid. 

The  room  is  one  seldom  profaned  by  the  foot  of 
man,  and  everything  in  it  is  white  or  blue.  Miss 
Phoebe  is  not  present,  but  here  are  Miss  Susan,  Miss 
Willoughby  and  her  sister  Miss  Fanny,  and  Miss 
Henrietta  Turnbull.  Miss  Susan  and  Miss 
Willoughby,  alas,  already  wear  caps ;  but  all  the 
four  are  dear  ladies,  so  refined  that  we  ought  not  to 
be  discussing  them  without  a  more  formal  introduc- 
tion. There  seems  no  sufficient  reason  why  we  should 
choose  Miss  Phoebe  as  our  heroine  rather  than  any 
one  of  the  others,  except,  perhaps,  that  we  like  her 
name  best.  But  we  gave  her  the  name,  so  we  must 
support  our  choice  and  say  that  she  is  slightly  the 
nicest,  unless,  indeed,  Miss  Susan  is  nicer. 

Miss  Fanny  is  reading  aloud  from  a  library  book 
while  the  others  sew  or  knit.  They  are  making 
garments  for  our  brave  soldiers  now  far  away  fighting 
the  Corsican  Ogre. 


I.]  QUALITY  STREET  5 

MISS  FANNY.  '.  .  .  And  so  the  day  passed 
and  evening  came,  black,  mysterious,  and 
ghost-like.  The  wind  moaned  unceasingly  like 
a  shivering  spirit,  and  the  vegetation  rustled, 
uneasily  as  if  something  weird  and  terrifying 
were  about  to  happen.  Suddenly  out  of  the 
darkness  there  emerged  a  Man. 

(She  says  tJie  last  word  tremulously  but 
without  looking  up.  The  listeners  knit 
more  quickly.} 

The  unhappy  Camilla  was  standing  lost  in 

reverie  when,  without  pausing  to  advertise  her 

of  his  intentions,  he  took  both  her  hands  in  his. 

(By  this  time  the  knitting  has  stopped, 

and  all  are  listening  as  if  mesmerised.} 

Slowly  he  gathered  her  in  his  arms 

(MISS  SUSAN  gives  an  excited  little  cry.} 
Miss  FANNY.     And  rained  hot,  burning       '* 
MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     Sister ! 

MISS  FANNY  (greedily} .     '  On  eyes,  mouth * 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (sternly}.  Stop.  Miss 
Susan,  I  am  indeed  surprised  you  should  bring 
such  an  amazing,  indelicate  tale  from  the 
library. 


6  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  a  slight  shudder}.     I  deeply 

regret,  Miss  Willoughby (Sees  MISS  FANNY 

reading  quickly  to  herself.}     Oh,  Fanny  !     If  you 
please,  my  dear. 

(Takes  the  book  gently  from  her.}  ^ 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     I  thank  you. 
(She  knits  severely.} 

MISS  FANNY  (a  little  rebel).  Miss  Susan  is 
looking  at  the  end. 

(MISS  SUSAN  closes  the  book  guiltily.} 

MESS  SUSAN  (apologetically}.  Forgive  my  par- 
tiality for  romance,  Mary.  I  fear  'tis  the  mark 
of  an  old  maid. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     Susan,  that  word ! 

MISS  SUSAN  (sweetly}.  'Tis  what  I  am.  And 
you  also,  Mary,  my  dear. 

MISS  FANNY  (defending  her  sister}.  Miss  Susan, 
I  protest. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (sternly  truthful}.  Nay, 
sister,  'tis  true.  _  We  are  known  everywhere 
now,  Susan,  you  and  I,  as  the  old  maids  of 
Quality  Street.  (General  discomfort.} 

MISS  SUSAN.  I  am  happy  Phoebe  will  not 
be  an  old  maid. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  7 

MISS  HENRIETTA  (wistfully).  Do  you  refer, 
Miss  Susan,  to  V.  B.  ? 

(MISS  SUSAN  smiles  happily  to  herself.) 
MISS  SUSAN.     Miss  Phoebe  of  the  ringlets  as 
he  has  called  her. 

MISS  FANNY.  Other  females  besides  Miss 
Phoebe  have  ringlets. 

MISS  SUSAN.  But  you  and  Miss  Henrietta 
have  to  employ  papers,  my  dear.  (Proudly) 
Phoebe,  never. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (in  defence  of  FANNY).  I 
do  not  approve  of  Miss  Phoebe  at  all. 

MISS  SUSAN  (flushing).  Mary,  had  Phoebe 
been  dying  you  would  have  called  her  an  angel, 
but  that  is  ever  the  way.  v'Tis  all  jealousy 
to  the  bride  and  good  wishes  to  the  corpse. 
(Her  guests  rise,  hurt.)  My  love,  I  beg  your 
pardon. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  With  your  permission, 
Miss  Susan,  I  shall  put  on  my  pattens. 

(MISS  SUSAN  gives  permission  almost 
haughtily,  and  the  ladies  retire  to  the 
bedroom,  MISS  FANNY  remaining  behind 
a  moment  to  ask  a  question.) 


8  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  FANNY.    A  bride  ?    Miss  Susan,  do  you 
mean  that  V.  B.  has  declared  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.     Fanny,  I  expect  it  hourly. 
t.    (MISS  SUSAN,  left  alone,  is  agitated  by  the 
/3\jjr      terrible  scene  with  MISS  WILLOUGHBY.) 

(Enter  PHOEBE  in  her  bonnet,  and  we  see 
at  once  that  she  really  is  the  nicest.     SJie 
is  so  flushed  with  delightful  news  that  slie 
almost  forgets  to  take  off  her  pattens  before 
crossing  the  blue  and  white  room.) 
MISS  SUSAN.     You  seem   strangely   excited, 
Phoebe. 

PHOEBE.    Susan,    I    have    met    a    certain 
individual. 

MISS  SUSAN.    V.  B.  ?     (PHOEBE  nods  several 
times,  and  her  gleaming  eyes  tell  MISS  SUSAN  as 
much  as  if  they  were  a  romance  from  the  library.) 
My  dear,  you  are  trembling. 
PHOEBE  (bravely).     No — oh  no. 
MISS  SUSAN.  You  put  your  hand  to  your  heart. 
PHOEBE.     Did  I? 

MISS  SUSAN  (in  a  whisper).     My  love,  has  he 
offered  ? 

PHOEBE  (appalled).     Oh,  Susan. 


(O* 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET 

~ 

(Enter  MISS  WILLOUGHBY,  partly  cloaked.) 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  How  do  you  do,  Miss 
Phoebe.  (Portentously)  Susan,  I  have  no  wish 
to  alarm  you,  but  I  am  of  opinion  that  there  is 
a  man  In  the  house.  I  suddenly  felt  it  while 
putting  on  my  pattens. 

MISS  SUSAN.     You  mean — a  follower — in  the 

kitchen  ?    .  (She  courageously  rings  the  bell,  but  her 

voice  falters.)     I  am  just  a  little  afraid  of  Patty. 

(Enter  PATTY,  a  buxom  young  woman,  who 

loves  her  mistresses  and  smiles  at  them,  and 

knows  how  to  terrorise  them.) 

Patty,  I  hope  we  may  not  hurt  your  feelings, 
but — 

PATTY  (sternly) .  Are  you  implicating,  ma'am, 
that  I  have  a  follower  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.     Oh  no,  Patty. 

PATTY.     So  be  it. 

MISS  SUSAN  (ashamed).  Patty,  come  back. 
(Humbly)  I  told  a  falsehood  just  now;  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself. 

PATTY  (severely).  As  well  you  might  be, 
ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (so  roused  that  she  would  look  Jieroic  if 


10  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

she  did  not  spoil  the  effect  by  wagging  her  finger 
at  PATTY).  How  dare  you.  There  is  a  man  in 
the  kitchen.  To  the  door  with  him. 

PATTY.     A  glorious  soldier  to  be  so  treated ! 
PHOEBE.     The  door. 
PATTY.     And  if  he  refuses  ? 
(They  looked  perplexed.} 
MISS  SUSAN.     Oh  dear ! 
PHOEBE.     If  he  refuses  send  him  here  to  me. 

(Exit  PATTY.) 

MISS  SUSAN.  Lion-hearted  Phoebe. 
MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  A  soldier?  (Nervously) 
I  wish  it  may  not  be  that  impertinent  re- 
cruiting sergeant.  I  passed  him  in  the  street 
to-day.  He  closed  one  of  his  eyes  at  me  and 
then  quickly  opened  it.  I  knew  what  he 
meant. 

PHOEBE.     He  does  not  come. 
MISS  SUSAN.    I  think  I  hear  their  voices  in 
dispute. 

(She  is  listening  through  the  floor.  They 
all  stoop  or  go  on  their  knees  to  listen,  and 
when  they  are  in  this  position  the  RECRUIT- 
ING SERGEANT  enters  unobserved.  He 


I.]  QUALITY  STREET  11 

. 

chuckles  aloud.  In  a  moment  PHOEBE  is 
alone  with  him.) 

SERGEANT  (with  an  Irish  accent).  Your 
servant,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (advancing  sternly  on  him).  Sir — 
(She  is  perplexed,  as  he  seems  undismayed.) 

Sergeant (She  sees  mud  from  his  boots  on 

the  carpet.)  Oh  !  oh !  (Brushes  carpet.)  Ser- 
geant, I  am  wishful  to  scold  you,  but  would 
you  be  so  obliging  as  to  stand  on  this  paper 
while  I  do  it  ? 

SERGEANT.  With  all  the  pleasure  in  life, 
ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (forgetting  to  be  angry).  Sergeant, 
have  you  killed  people  ? 

SERGEANT.     Dozens,  ma'am,  dozens. 

PHOEBE.  How  terrible.  Oh,  sir,  I  pray 
every  night  that  the  Lord  in  His  loving-kind- 
ness will  root  the  enemy  up.  /xls  it  true  that 
the  Corsican  Ogre  eats  babies? 

SERGEANT.  I  have  spoken  with  them  as 
have  seen  him  do  it,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.  The  Man  of  Sin.  (Have  you  ever 
seen  a  vivandiere,  sir?  (Wistfully)  I  have 


12  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

sometimes  wished  there  were  vivandieres  in 
the  British  Army.  •  (For  a  moment  she  sees  her- 
self as  one.)  On,  Sergeant,  a  shudder  goes 
through  me  when  I  see  you  in  the  streets  enticing 
those  poor  young  men. 

SERGEANT.  If  you  were  one  of  them,  ma'am, 
and  death  or  glory  was  the  call,  you  would  take 
the  shilling,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.    Oh,  not  for  that. 

SERGEANT.     For  King  and  Country,  ma'am  ? 

PHOEBE  (grandly).    Yes,  yes,  for  that. 

SERGEANT  (candidly).  Not  that  it  is  all  fight- 
ing. The  sack  of  captured  towns — the  loot. 

PHOEBE  (proudly).  An  English  soldier  never 
sacks  nor  loots. 

SERGEANT.  No,  ma'am.  And  then — the 
girls. 

PHOEBE.     What  girls  ? 

SERGEANT.  In  the  towns  that — that  we 
don't  sack. 

PHOEBE.  How  they  must  hate  the  haughty 
conqueror. 

SERGEANT.  We  are  not  so  haughty  as  all 
that. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  13 

PHOEBE  (sadly).  I  think  I  understand.  I 
am  afraid,  Sergeant,  you  do  not  tell  those  poor 
young  men  the  noble  things  I  thought  you 
told  them. 

SERGEANT.  Ma'am,  I  must  e'en  tell  4feem 
what  they  are  wishful  to  hear.  There  ha'  been 
five,  ma'am,  all  this  week,  listening  to  me  and 
then  showing  me  their  heels,  but  by  a  grand 
stroke  of  luck  I  have^em  at  last. 

PHOEBE.     Luck  ? 

(MISS    SUSAN    opens    door    slightly    and 

listens.) 

- 

SERGEANT.  The  luck,  ma'am,  is  that  a 
gentleman  of  the  town  has  enlisted.  That  gave 
them  the  push  forward. 

(MISS  SUSAN  is  excited.) 

PHOEBE.  A  gentleman  of  this  town  enlisted  ? 
(Eagerly)  Sergeant,  who? 

SERGEANT.  Nay,  ma'am,  I  think  it  be  a 
secret  as  yet. 

PHOEBE.  But  a  gentleman !  'Tis  the 
most  amazing,  exciting  thing.  Sergeant,  be  so 
obliging. 

SERGEANT.     Nay,  ma'am,  I  can't. 


14  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN  (at  door,  carried  away  by  excite- 
ment}. But  you  must,  you  must ! 

SERGEANT   (turning  to  the  door).     You  see, 

ma'am 

(The  door  is  hurriedly  closed.) 

PHOEBE  (ashamed).  Sergeant,  I  have  not 
been  saying  the  things  I  meant  to  say  to  you. 
Will  you  please  excuse  my  turning  you  out  of 
the  house  somewhat  violently. 

SERGEANT.     I  am  used  to  it,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.     I  won't  really  hurt  you. 

SERGEANT.     Thank  you  kindly,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (observing  the  bedroom  door  opening  a 

little,  and  speaking  in  a  loud  voice).     I  protest, 

sir;   we  shall  permit  no  followers  in  this  house. 

Should  I  discover  you  in  my  kitchen  again  I 

shall  pitch  you  out — neck  and  crop.  Begone,  sir. 

(The  SERGEANT  retires  affably.     All  th& 

ladies  except  MISS  HENRIETTA  come  out, 

*£*  ,*r 

admiring  PHOEBE.  The  WILLOUGHBYS 
are  attired  for  their  journey  across  the 
street.) 

MISS   WILLOUGHBY.      MlSS   Phoebe,    WC   COllld 

not  but  admire  you. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  15 

(PHOEBE,  alas,  knows  that  she  is  not 
admirable.} 

PHOEBE C  But  the  gentleman  recruit  ? 
MISS  SUSAN.     Perhaps  they  will  know  who 
he  is  at  the  woollen-drapers. 
MISS  FANNY.     Let  us  inquire. 

(But  before  they  go  MISS  WILLOUGHBY 
has  a  duty  to  perform.)  J 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     I  wish  to  apologise.  Miss 

—^Phoebe,  you  are  a  dear,  good  girl.     If  I  have 

/  inade   remarks   about  her   ringlets,    Susan,   it 

/     was  jealousy.     (PHOEBE  and  MISS  SUSAN  wish 

to  embrace  her,  but  she  is  not  in  the  mood  for  it.) 

Come,  sister. 

MISS  FANNY   (the  dear  woman  that  she  is). 
Phoebe,  dear,  I  wish  you  very  happy. 

(PHOEBE  presses  her  hand.) 
MISS  HENRIETTA  (entering,  and  not  to  be  out- 
done).   Miss  Phoebe,  I  give  you  joy. 

(The  three  ladies  go,  the  two  younger  ones 
a  little  tearfully,  and  we  see  them  pass  the 
window.) 

PHOEBE    (pained).     Susan,    you   have   been 
talking  to  them  about  V.  B. 


16 


QUALITY  STREET 


[ACT 


MISS  SUSAN.  I  could  not  help  it.  (Eagerly) 
Now,  Phoebe,  what  is  it  you  have  to  tell  me  ? 

PHOEBE  (in  a  low  voice).  Dear,  I  think  it  is 
too  holy  to  speak  of. 

MISS  SUSAN.    To  your  sister  ? 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  as  you  know,  I  was  sitting 
with  an  unhappy  woman  whose  husband  has 
fallen  hi  the  war.  When  I  came  out  of  the 
cottage  he  was  passing. 

MISS  SUSAN.    Yes  ? 

PHOEBE.  He  offered  me  his  escort.  At  first 
he  was  very  silent — as  he  has  often  been  of  late. 

MISS  SUSAN.     We  know  why. 

PHOEBE.  Please  not  to  say  that  I  know 
why.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  swung  his 
cane.  You  know  how  gallantly  he  swings  his 
cane. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Yes,  indeed. 

PHOEBE.  He  said:  'I  have  something  I  am 
wishful  to  tell  you,  Miss  Phoebe;  perhaps  you 
can  guess  what  it  is.' 

MISS  SUSAN.     Go  on ! 

PHOEBE.  To  say  I  could  guess,  sister,  would 
have  been  unladylike.  I  said:  'Please  not  to 


L]  QUALITY  STREET  17 

tell  me  in  the  public  thoroughfare';    to  which 
-he  instantly  replied:    'Then  I  shall  call  and 
tell  you  this  afternoon.' 
MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe ! 

(They  are  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
PATTY  with  tea.  They  see  that  she  has 
brought  three  cups,  and  know  that  this  is 
her  impertinent  way  of  implying  that 
mistresses,  as  well  as  maids,  may  have  a 
'follower.'  When  she  has  gone  they  smile 
at  the  daring  of  the  woman,  and  sit  down 
to  tea.} 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  to  think  that  it  has  all 
happened  in  a  single  year. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Such  a  genteel  competency  as 
he  can  offer;  such  a  desirable  establishment. 

PHOEBE.  I  had  no  thought  of  that,  dear.,^  I 
was  recalling  our  first  meeting  at  Mrs.  Fother- 
ingay's  quadrille  party. 

MISS  SUSAN.  We  had  quite  forgotten  that  our 
respected  local  physician  was  growing  elderly. 

PHOEBE.     Until    he    said:      'Allow    me    to 

present  my  new  partner,  Mr.  Valentine  Brown.' 

MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe,  do  you  remember  how 


18  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

at  the  tea-table  he  facetiously  passed  the  cake- 
basket  with  nothing  in  it ! 

PHOEBE.     He  was  so  amusing  from  the  first. . 
I  am  thankful,  Susan,  that  I  too  have  a  sense 
of  humour.  .  I  am  exceedingly  funny  at  times; 
am  I  not,  Susan  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  Yes,  indeed.  But  he  sees 
humour  in  the  most  unexpected  things.  I 
say  something  so  ordinary  about  loving,  for 
instance,  to  have  everything  either  blue  or 
white  in  this  room,  and  I  know  not  why  he 
laughs,  but  it  makes  me  feel  quite  witty.  > 

PHOEBE  (a  little  anxiously).  I  hope  he  sees 
nothing  odd  or  quaint  about  us. 

MISS  SUSAN.     My  dear,  I  am  sure  he  cannot. 

PHOEBE.     Susan,  the  picnics. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  the  day  when  he  first 
drank  tea  in  this  house. 

PHOEBE.     He  invited  himself. 

MISS  SUSAN.  He  merely  laughed  when  I 
said  it  would  cause  such  talk. 

PHOEBE.     He  is  absolutely  fearless.     Susan, 
he  has  smoked  his  pipe  in  this  room. 
(They  are  both  a  little  scared.) 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  19 

MISS  SUSAN.  Smoking  is  indeed  a  dreadful 
habit. 

PHOEBE.  But  there  is  something  so  dashing 
about  it. 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  melancholy).  And  now  I 
am  to  be  left  alone. 

PHOEBE.     No. 

MISS  SUSAN.  My  dear,  I  could  not  leave  this 
room.  My  lovely  blue  and  white  room.  It  is 
my  husband. 

PHOEBE  (who  has  become  agitated}.  Susan, 
you  must  make  my  house  your  home.  I  have 
something  distressing  to  tell  you^ 

MISS  SUSAN.     You  alarm  me. 

PHOEBE.  You  know  Mr.  Brown  advised  us 
how  to  invest  half  of  our  money. 

MISS  SUSAN.  I  know  it  gives  us  eight  per 
cent.,  though  why  it  should  do  so  I  cannot 
understand,  but  very  obliging,  I  am  sure. 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  all  that  money  is  lost;  I 
had  the  letter  several  days  ago. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Lost  ? 

PHOEBE.  Something  burst,  dear,  and  then 
they  absconded. 


20  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


MISS  SUSAN.     But  Mr.  Brown — 

PHOEBE.  I  have  not  advertised  him  of  it 
yet,  for  he  will  think  it  was  his  fault.  But  I 
shall  tell  him  to-day. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  how  much  have  we  left  ? 

PHOEBE.  Only  sixty  pounds  a  year,  so  you 
see  you  must  live  with  us,  dearest. 

MISS  SUSAN.     But  Mr.  Brown — he 

PHOEBE  (grandly}.  He  is  a  man  of  means, 
and  if  he  is  not  proud  to  have  my  Susan  I  shall 
say  at  once:  'Mr.  Brown — the  door.' 

(She  presses  her  cheek  to  MISS  SUSAN'S.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (softly).  Phoebe,  I  have  a  wedding 
gift  for  you. 

PHOEBE.    Not  yet  ?        , 

MISS  SUSAN.  It  has  been  ready  for  a  long 
time.  I  began  it  when  you  were  not  ten  years 
old  and  I  was  a  young  woman.  I  meant  it 
for  myself,  Phoebe.  I  had  hoped  that  he — his 
name  was  Willianvybut  I  think  I  must  have 
been  too  unattractive,  my  love. 

PHOEBE.     Sweetest — dearest 


MISS  SUSAN.     I  always  associate  it  with  a 
sprigged  poplin  I  was  wearing  that  summer, 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  21 

with  a  breadth  of  coloured  silk  in  it,  /Jbeing  a 
naval  officer; ^but  something  happened,  a  Miss 

Cicely  Pemberton,  and  they  are  quite  big  boys 
*\ 

now.  «So  long  ago,  Phoebe-^-he  was  very  tall, 
with  brown  hair— it  was  most  foolish  of 
me,  but  I  was  always  so  fond  of  sewing — - 
with  long  straight  legs  and  such  a  pleasant 
expression. 

PHOEBE.     Susan,  what  was  it  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  It  was  a  wedding-gown,  my 
dear.  Even  plain  women,  Phoebe,  we  can't 
help  it;  when  we  are  young  we  have  romantic 
ideas  just  as  if  we  were  pretty.  And  so  the 

iV^Wv          'V 

wedding-gown  was  never  used.  Long  before  it 
was  finished  I  knew  he  would  not  offer,  but  I 
finished  it,  and  then  I  put  it  away.  I  have 
always  hidden  it  from  you,  Phoebe,  but  of  late 
I  have  brought  it  out  again,  and  altered  it. 
(She  goes  to  ottoman  and  unlocks  it.) 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  I  could  not  wear  it.  (MISS 
SUSAN  brings  the  wedding -gown.)  Oh !  how 
sweet,  how  beautiful ! 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  will  wear  it,  my  love, 
won't  you?  And  the  tears  it  was  sewn  with 


22  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

long  ago  will  all  turn  into  smiles  on  my  Phoebe's 
wedding-day. 

(They  are  tearfully  happy  when  a  knock 
is  heard  on  the  street  door.} 
PHOEBE.     That  knock. 
MISS  SUSAN.     So  dashing. 
PHOEBE.     So    imperious.     (She    is    suddenly 
panic-stricken.)  Susan,!  think  he  kissed  me  once. 
MISS  SUSAN  (startled).     You  think? 
PHOEBE.     I  know  he  did.     That  evening — 
a  week  ago,  when  he  was  squiring  me  home 
from  the  concert.     It  was  raining,  and  my  face 
was  wet;  he  said  that  was  why  he  did  it. 
MISS  SUSAN.     Because  your  face  was  wet  ? 
PHOEBE.     It    does    not    seem    a    sufficient 
excuse  now. 

*    MISS  SUSAN  (appalled).     0  Phoebe,  before  he 
had  offered. 

PHOEBE  (in  distress).    I  fear  me  it  was  most 
unladylike. 

(VALENTINE  BROWN  is  shown  in.  He  is 
a  frank,  genial  young  man  of  twenty-five 
who  honestly  admires  the  ladies,  though  he 
is  amused  by  their  quaintness.  He  is 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  23 

modestly  aware  that  it  is  in  the  blue  and 
while  room  alone  that  he  is  esteemed  a  wit.) 
BROWN.     Miss  Susan,  how  do  you  do,  ma'am  ? 
Nay,  Miss  Phoebe,  though  we  have  met  to-day 
already  I  insist  on  shaking  hands  with  you  again.   . 
MISS  SUSAN.     Always  so  dashing. 

(VALENTINE  laughs  and  the  ladies  exchange 
delighted  smiles.) 

VALENTINE  (to  MISS  SUSAN).  And  my  other 
friends,  I  hope  I  find  them  in  health?  The 
spinet,  ma'am,  seems  quite  herself  to-day;  I 
trust  the  ottoman  passed  a  good  night  ? 

MISS  SUSAN  (beaming).  We  are  all  quite  well, 
sir. 

VALENTINE.  May  I  sit  on  this  chair,  Miss 
Phoebe  ?  I  know  Miss  Susan  likes  me  to  break 
her  chairs. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Indeed,  sir,  I  do  not.  Phoebe, 
how  strange  that  he  should  think  so. 

PHOEBE  (instantly).  The  remark  was  humor- 
ous, was  it  not  ? 

VALENTINE.  How  you  see  through  me,  Miss 
Phoebe. 

(The    sisters    again    exchange    delighted 


24  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

smiles.    VALENTINE  is  about  to  take  a 
seat.} 

Miss  SUSAN  (thinking  aloud).  Oh  dear,  I 
feel  sure  he  is  going  to  roll  the  coverlet  into  a 
ball  and  then  sit  on  it.  /,  ^  yjoJJ^ 

(VALENTINE,  wHorhas  been  on  the  point 
of  doing  so,  abstains  and  sits  guiltily.) 

VALENTINE.  So  I  am  dashing,  Miss  Susan? 
Am  I  dashing,  Miss  Phoebe  ? 

PHOEBE.     A — little,  I  think. 

VALENTINE.  Well,  but  I  have  something  to 
tell  you  to-day  which  I  really  think  is  rather 
dashing.  (MISS  SUSAN  gathers  her  knitting,  looks 
at  PHOEBE,  and  is  preparing  to  go.)  You  are  not 
going,  ma'am,  before  you  know  what  it  is  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  I — I — indeed — to  be  sure — I — I 
know,  Mr.  Brown. 

PHOEBE.     Susan ! 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  mean  I  do  not  know.     I  mean 

I  can  guess — I  mean Phoebe,   my  love, 

explain.     (She  goes  out.) 

VALENTINE  (rather  disappointed).  The  ex- 
planation being,  I  suppose,  that  you  both  know, 
and  I  had  flattered  myself  'twas  such  a  secret. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  25 

Am  I  then  to  understand  that  you  had  foreseen 
it  all,  Miss  Phoebe? 

PHOEBE.     Nay,  sir,  you  must  not  ask  that. 

VALENTINE.  I  believe  in  any  case  'twas  you 
who  first  put  it  into  my  head, 

PHOEBE  (aghast).     Oh,  I  hope  not. 

VALENTINE.     Your  demure  eyes  flashed  so 
every  time  the  war  was  mentioned;Kthe  little 
Quaker  suddenly  looked  like  a  gallant  boy  in  A 
ringlets.) 

(A  dread  comes  over  PHOEBE,  but  it  is 
in  her  heart  alone  ;  it  shows  neither  in 
face  nor  voice.} 

PHOEBE.  Mr.  Brown,  what  is  it  you  have  to 
tell  us? 

VALENTINE.  That  I  have  enlisted,  Miss 
Phoebe.  ,-Did  you  surmise  it  was  something  else  ? 

PHOEBE.  You  are  going  to  the  wars?  Mr. 
Brown,  is  it  a  jest  ? 

VALENTINE.  It  would  be  a  sorry  jest,  ma'am. 
I  thought  you  knew.  I  concluded  that  the 
recruiting  sergeant  had  talked. 

PHOEBE.     The  recruiting  sergeant?.  I  see. 

VALENTINE.       These    stirring    times,    Miss 


26  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

Phoebe — he  is  but  half  a  man  who  stays  at 
home.  I  have  chafed  for  months.  'I  want  to 
see  whether  I  have  any  courage,  and  as  to  be 
an  army  surgeon  does  not  appeal  to  me,  it  was 
enlist  or  remain  behind/)  To-day  I  found  that 
there  were  five  waverers.  I  asked  them  would 
they  take  the  shilling  if  I  took  it,  and  they 
assented.  Miss  Phoebe,  it  is  not  one  man  I  give 
to  the  King,  but  six. 

PHOEBE  (brightly).  I  think  you  have  done 
bravely. 

VALENTINE.  We  leave  shortly  for  the  Peters- 
burgh  barracks,  and  I  go  to  London  to- 
morrow; so  this  is  good-bye. 

PHOEBE.  I  shall  pray  that  you  may  be 
preserved  in  battle,  Mr.  Brown. 

VALENTINE.  And  you  and  Miss  Susan  will 
write  to  me  when  occasion  offers  ? 

PHOEBE.     If  you  wish  it. 

VALENTINE  (smiling).  With  all  the  stirring 
news  of  Quality  Street. 

PHOEBE.  It  seems  stirring  to  us;  it  must 
have  been  merely  laughable  to  you,  who  came 
here  from  a  great  city. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  27 

VALENTINE.  Dear  Quality  Street — that 
thought  me  dashing !  But  I  made  friends  in  it, 
Miss  Phoebe,  of  two  very  sweet  ladies. 

PHOEBE  (timidly}.  Mr.  Brown,  I  wonder 
why  you  have  been  so  kind  to  my  sister  and 
me? 

VALENTINE.  The  kindness  was  yours.  If  at 

first  Miss  Susan  amused  me (Chuckling.) 

To  seejier  on  her  knees  decorating  the  little  legs 
of  the  couch  with  frills  as  if  it  were  a  child ! 
But  it  was  her  sterling  qualities  that  impressed 
me  presently. 

PHOEBE.     And  did — did  I  amuse  you  also  ? 

VALENTINE.  Prodigiously,  Miss  Phoebe. 
Those  other  ladies,  they  were  always  scolding 
you,  your  youthf  ulness  shocked  them.  I  believe 
they  thought  you  dashing. 

PHOEBE  (nervously).  I  have  sometimes  feared 
that  I  was  perhaps  too  dashing. 

VALENTINE  (laughing  at  this).  You  delicious 
Miss  Phoebe.  You  were  too  quiet.  I  felt  sorry 
that  one  so  sweet  and  young  should  live  so 
grey  a  life.  I  wondered  whether  I  could  put 
any  little  pleasures  into  it. 


28  QUALITY   STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  The  picnics?  It  was  very  good 
of  you. 

VALENTINE.  That  was  only  how  it  began,  for 
soon  I  knew  that  it  was  I  who  got  the  pleasures 
and  you  who  gave  them.  ..You  have  been  to  me, 
Miss  Phoebe,  like  a  quiet,  old-fashioned  garden 

full  of  the  flowers  that  Englishmen  love  best 

/         f 

because  they  have  known  them  longest  ^  the 

daisy,  that  stands  for  innocence,  and  the 
hyacinth  for  constancy,  and  the  modest  violet 
and  the  rosej  .-When  I  am  far  away,  ma'am, 
I  shall  often  think  of  Miss  Phoebe's  pretty 
soul,  which  is  her  garden,  and  shut  my  eyes 
and  walk  in  it. 

(She  is  smiling  gallantly  through  her  pain 
when  MISS  SUSAN  returns.) 

MISS  SUSAN.  Have  you — is  it — you  seem  so 
calm,  .Phoebe. 

PHOEBE  (pressing  her  sister's  hand  warningly 
and  imploringly).  Susan,  what  Mr.  Brown  is 
so  obliging  as  to  inform  us  of  is  not  what  we 
expected — not  that  at  all.  My  dear,  he  is  the 
gentleman  who  has  enlisted,  and  he  came  to  tell 
us  that  and  to  say  good-bye. 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  29 

MISS  SUSAN.     Going  away  ? 

PHOEBE.     Yes,  dear. 

VALENTINE.  Am  I  not  the  ideal  recruit, 
ma'am:  a  man  without  a  wife  or  a  mother  or 
a  sweetheart  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.     No  sweetheart  ? 

VALENTINE.  Have  you  one  for  me,  Miss 
Susan  ? 

PHOEBE  (hastily,  lest  her  sister's  face  should 
betray  the  truth).  Susan,  we  shall  have  to  tell 
him  now.  You  dreadful  man,  you  will  laugh 
and  say  it  is  just  like  Quality  Street.  But 
indeed  since  I  met  you  to-day  and  you  told 
me  you  had  something  to  communicate  we 
have  been  puzzling  what  it  could  be,  and 
we  concluded  that  you  were  going  to  be 
married. 

VALENTINE.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !     Was  that  it. 

PHOEBE.  So  like  women,  you  know.  We 
thought  we  perhaps  knew  her.  (Glancing  at  the 
wedding -gown.)  We  were  even  discussing  what 
we  should  wear  at  the  wedding. 

VALENTINE.  Ha !  ha !  I  shall  often  think 
of  this.  I  wonder  who  would  have  me,  Miss 


30  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

Susan.     (Rising.)     But   I   must    be   off;    and 
God  bless  you  both. 

MISS  SUSAN  (forlorn).     You  are  going ! 

VALENTINE.  No  more  mud  on  your  carpet,  Miss 

Susan;  no  more  coverlets  rolled  into  balls.  Agood 

riddance.     Miss  Phoebe,  a  last  look  at  the  garden. 

(Taking  her  hand  and  looking  into  her  face.) 

PHOEBE.  We  shall  miss  you  very  much,  Mr. 
Brown. 

VALENTINE.  There  is  one  little  matter.  That 
investment  I  advised  you  to  make,  I  am  happy 
it  has  turned  out  so  well. 

PHOEBE  (checking  MISS  SUSAN,  who  is  about 
to  tell  of  the  loss  of  the  money) .  It  was  good  of 
you  to  take  all  that  trouble,  sir.  Accept  our 
grateful  thanks. 

VALENTINE.  Indeed  I  am  glad  that  you  are 
so  comfortably  left;  I  am  your  big  brother. 
Good-bye  again.  (Looks  round.)  »  This  little 
blue  and  white  room  and  its  dear  inmates, 
may  they  be  unchanged  when  I  come  back. 
Good-bye. 

(He  goes.     MISS  SUSAN  looks  forlornly  at 
PHOEBE,  who  smiles  pitifully.) 


i.]  QUALITY  STREET  31 

PHOEBE.  A  misunderstanding;  just  a  mis- 
take. (She  shudders,  lifts  the  wedding-gown  and 
puts  it  back  in  the  ottoman.  MISS  SUSAN  sinks 
sobbing  into  a  chair.)  Don't,  dear,  don't — we 
can  live  it  down. 

MISS  SUSAN  (fiercely}.  He  is  a  fiend  in  human 
form. 

PHOEBE.  Nay,  you  hurt  me,  sister.  He  is  a 
brave  gentleman. 

MISS  SUSAN.  The  money;  why  did  you  not 
let  me  tell  him  ? 

PHOEBE  (flushing}.  So  that  he  might  offer 
to  me  out  of  pity,  Susan  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  how  are  we  to  live 
with  the  quartern  loaf  at  one  and  tenpence  ? 

PHOEBE.     Brother  James 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  know  very  well  that 
brother  James  will  do  nothing  for  us. 

PHOEBE.  I  think,  Susan,  we  could  keep  a 
little  school — for  genteel  children  only,  of 
course.  I  would  do  most  of  the  teaching. 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  a  schoolmistress — Phoebe 
of  the  ringlets;  every  one  would  laugh. 

PHOEBE.     I  shall  hide  the  ringlets  away  in  a 


32  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

cap  like  yours,  Susan,  and  people  will  soon 
forget  them.  And  I  shall  try  to  look  staid  and 
to  grow  old  quickly.  It  will  not  be  so  hard  to 
me  as  you  think,  dear. 

MISS  SUSAN.  There  were  other  gentlemen 
who  were  attracted  by  you,  Phoebe,  and  you 
turned  from  them. 

PHOEBE.     I  did  not  want  them. 

MISS  SUSAN.  They  will  come  again,  and  others. 

PHOEBE.  No,  dear;  never  speak  of  that  to 
me  any  more.  (In  woe.)  I  let  him  kiss  me. 

MISS  SUSAN.     You  could  not  prevent  him. 

PHOEBE.  Yes,  I  could.  I  know  I  could 
now.  I  wanted  him  to  do  it.  Oh,  never  speak 
to  me  of  others  after  that.  ^Perhaps  he  saw  I 
wanted  it  and  did  it  to  please  me.  But  I  meant 
— indeed  I  did — that  I  gave  it  to  him  with  all  my 
love.  Sister,  I  could  bear  all  the  rest;  but  I  have 
been  unladylike. 

(The  curtain  falls,  and  we  do  not  see  the 
sisters  again  for  ten  years.) 

hr- 

End  of  Act  I. 


ACT  II 


ACT    II 


Ten  years  later.  It  is  the  blue  and  white  room 
still,  but  many  of  Miss  Susan's  beautiful  things 
have  gone,  some  of  them  never  to  return  ;  others  are 
stored  upstairs.  Their  place  is  taken  by  grim  schol- 
astic furniture  :  forms,  a  desk,  a  globe,  a  blackboardf 
heartless  maps.  It  is  here  that  Miss  Phoebe  keeps 
school.  Miss  Susan  teaches  in  the  room  opening  off 
it,  once  the  spare  bedroom,  where  there  is  a  smaller 
blackboard  (for  easier  sums)  but  no  globe,  as  Miss 
Susan  is  easily  alarmed.  Here  are  the  younger  pupils 
unless  they  have  grown  defiant,  when  they  are  promoted 
to  the  blue  and  white  room  to  be  under  Miss  Phoebe's 
braver  rule.  They  really  frighten  Miss  Phoebe  also, 
but  she  does  not  let  her  sister  know  this. 

It  is  noon  on  a  day  in  August,  and  through  the 
window  we  can  see  that  Quality  Street  is  decorated 
with  flags.  We  also  hear  at  times  martial  music  from 
another  street.  Miss  Phoebe  is  giving  a  dancing  lesson 

to  half  a  dozen  pupils,  and  is  doing  her  very  best ; 

35 


36  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

now  she  is  at  the  spinet  while  they  dance,  and  again 
she  is  showing  them  the  new  step.  We  know  it  is  Miss 
Phoebe  because  some  of  her  pretty  airs  and  graces  still 
cling  to  her  in  a  forlorn  way,  but  she  is  much  changed. 
Her  curls  are  out  of  sight  under  a  cap,  her  manner  is 
prim,  the  light  has  gone  from  her  eyes  and  buoyancy 
from  her  figure  ;  she  looks  not  ten  years  older  but 
twenty,  and  not  an  easy  twenty.  When  the  children 
are  not  looking  at  her  we  know  that  she  has  the  headache. 


PHOEBE  (who  is  sometimes  at  the  spinet  and 
sometimes  dancing) .  Toes  out.  So.  Chest  out. 
Georgy.  Point  your  toes,  Miss  Beveridge — so. 
So — keep  in  line;  and  young  ladies,  remember 
your  toes.  (GEORGY  in  his  desire  to  please  has 
protruded  the  wrong  part  of  his  person.  She 
writes  a  C  on  his  chest  with  chalk.)  C  stands  for 
chest,  Georgy.  This  is  S. 

(MISS  SUSAN  darts  out  of  the  other  room. 
She  is  less  worn  than  MISS  PHOEBE.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (whispering  so  that  the  pupils  may 
not  hear).  Phoebe,  how  many  are  fourteen  and 
seventeen  ? 

PHOEBE  (almost  instantly}.     Thirty-one. 


H.]  QUALITY  STREET  37 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  thank  you.     (She  darts  off.} 
PHOEBE.     That  will  do,  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
You  may  go. 

(They  bow  or  curtsy,  and  retire  to  MISS 
SUSAN'S  room,  with  the  exception  of 

AETHUE     WELLESLEY     TOMSON,      who     IS 

standing  in  disgrace  in  a  corner  with  the 
cap  of  shame  on  his  head,  and  ISABELLA, 
a  forbidding -looking,  learned  little  girl. 
ISABELLA  holds  up  her  hand  for  permis- 
sion to  speak.) 

ISABELLA.     Please,  ma'am,  father  wishes  me 
to  acquire  algebra. 

PHOEBE  (with  a  sinking) .    Algebra !  ,  It — it 
is  not  a  very  ladylike  study,  Isabella. 

ISABELLA.     Father  says,  will  you  or  won't 
you? 

PHOEBE.     And  you  are  thin.     It  will  make 
you  thinner,  my  dear. 

ISABELLA.     Father  says  I  am  thin  but  wiry. 
PHOEBE.     Yes,  you  are.     (With  feeling.)  You 
are  very  wiry,  Isabella. 

ISABELLA.     Father    says,    either    I    acquire 
algebra  or  I  go  to  Miss  Prothero's  establishment. 


38  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  Very  well,  I — I  will  do  my  best. 
You  may  go. 

(ISABELLA  goes  and  PHOEBE  sits  wearily.} 

ARTHUR  (fingering  his  cap).  Please,  ma'am, 
may  I  take  it  off  now  ? 

PHOEBE.     Certainly  not.     Unhappy  boy— 
(ARTHUR  grins.)    Come  here.  .  Are  you  ashamed 
of  yourself  ? 

ARTHUR  (blithely).     No,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (in  a  terrible  voice) .  Arthur  Wellesley 
Tomson,  fetch  me  the  implement.  (ARTHUR 
goes  briskly  for  the  cane,  and  she  hits  the  desk 
with  it.)  Arthur,  surely  that  terrifies  you  ? 

ARTHUR.     No,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.  Arthur,  why  did  you  fight  with 
that  street  boy  ? 

ARTHUR.  'Cos  he  said  that  when  you  caned 
you  did  not  draw  blood. 

PHOEBE.     But  I  don't,  do  I  ? 

ARTHUR.     No,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.  Then  why  fight  him  ?  (Remember- 
ing how  strange  boys  are.)  Was  it  for  the 
honour  of  the  school  ? 

ARTHUR.     Yes,  ma'am. 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  39 

PHOEBE.  Say  you  are  sorry,  Arthur,  and  I 
won't  punish  you. 

(He  bursts  into  tears.} 

ARTHUR.  You  promised  to  cane  me,  and 
now  you  are  not  going  to  do  it. 

PHOEBE  (incredulous).  Do  you  wish  to  be 
caned  ? 

ARTHUR  (holding  out  his  hand  eagerly] .  If  you 
please,  Miss  Phoebe. 

PHOEBE.  Unnatural  boy.  (She  canes  him  in 
a  very  unprofessional  manner.)  Poor  dear 
boy. 

(She  kisses  the  hand.) 

ARTHUR  (gloomily).  Oh,  ma'am,  you  will 
never  be  able  to  cane  if  you  hold  it  like  that. 
You  should  hold  it  like  this,  Miss  Phoebe,  and 
give  it  a  wriggle  like  that. 

(She  is  too  soft-hearted  to  follow  his  in- 
structions.) 

PHOEBE  (almost  in  tears) .     Go  away. 
ARTHUR  (remembering  that  women  are  strange). 
Don't  cry,  ma'am;    I  love  you,  Miss  Phoebe. 
(She  seats  him  on  her  knee,  and  he  thinks 
of  a  way  to  please  her.) 


40  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

If  any  boy  says  you  can't  cane  I  will  blood 
him,  Miss  Phoebe. 

(PHOEBE  shudders,  and  MISS  SUSAN  again 
darts  in.  She  signs  to  PHOEBE  to  send 
ARTHUR  away.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (as  soon  as  ARTHUR  has  gone). 
Phoebe,  if  a  herring  and  a  half  cost  three 
ha'pence,  how  many  for  elevenpence  ? 

PHOEBE  (instantly).     Eleven. 

MISS  SUSAN.  William  Smith  says  it  is  fifteen; 
and  he  is  such  a  big  boy,  do  you  think  I  ought 
to  contradict  him  ?  f  May  I  say  there  are  differ- 
ences of  opinion  about  it?  No  one  can  be 
really  sure,  Phoebe. 

PIIUEUE.     It  is  eleven.     I  once  worked  it  out 

; 

with  real  herrings.  (Stoutly.)  Susan,  we  must 
never  let  the  big  boys  know  that  we  are  afraid  of 
them.  To  awe  them,  stamp  with  the  foot,speak 
in  a  ferocious  voice,  and  look  them  unflinch- 
ingly in  the  face.  (Then  she  pales.)  Oh,  Susan, 
Isabella's  father  insists  on  her  acquiring  algebra. 

MISS  SUSAN.  What  is  algebra  exactly;  is  it 
those  three  cornered  things  ? 

PHOEBE.     It  is  x  minus  y  equals  z  plus  y  and 


n.] 


QUALITY  STREET 


41 


things  like  that.     And  all  the  time  you  are 
saying  they  are  equal,  you  feel  in  your  heart, 

why  should  they  be.     ci>u/>lfijl  AAJUJL-  —  UA, 

p 
(The  music  of  the  band  swells  here,  and 

both  ladies  put  their  hands  to  their  ears.} 
It  is  the  band  for  to-night's  ball.     We  must 

not  grudge  their  rejoicings,  Susan.     It  is  not 

every  year  that  there  is  a  Waterloo  to  celebrate. 
MISS  SUSAN.     I  was  not  thinking  of  that.     I 

was  thinking  that  he  is  to  be  at  the  ball  to-night; 

and  we  have  not  seen  him  for  ten  years. 

PHOEBE  (calmly).     Yes;  ten  years.     WTe  shall 

be  glad  to  welcome  our  old  friend  back,  Susan. 

I  am  going  in  to  your  room  now  to  take  the 

Latin  class.  . 

(A   soldier  with  a  girl  passes — a  yokel 

follows  angrily.)     ftxjfc^ 

Miss  SUSAN.     Oh,  that  weary  Latin,  I  wish  I 

had  the  whipping  of  the  man  who  invented  it. 

(She  returns  to  her  room,  and  the  sound  of 
the  music  dies  away.  MISS  PHOEBE,  who  is 
not  a  very  accomplished  classical  scholar, 
is  taking  a  final  peep  at  the  declensions 
when  MISS  SUSAN  reappears  excitedly.) 


'•  •  - 


42  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.     What  is  it  ? 

MISS    SUSAN     (tragically).     William    Smith ! 
Phoebe,  I  tried  to  look  ferocious,  indeed  I  did, 
but  he  saw  I  was  afraid,  and  before  the  whole 
school  he  put  out  his  tongue  at  me. 
PHOEBE.     Susan ! 

(She  is  lion-hearted;  she  remembers 
ARTHUR'S  instructions,  and  practises  with 
the  cane.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (frightened).     Phoebe,  he  is  much 
too  big.     Let  it  pass. 

PHOEBE.     If  I  let  it  pass  I  am  a  stumbling- 
block  in  the  way  of  true  education. 
MISS  SUSAN.     Sister. 
PHOEBE  (grandly).     Susan,  stand  aside. 

(Giving  the  cane  ARTHUR'S  most  telling, 
flick,  she  marches  into  the  other  room. 
Then,  while  MISS  SUSAN  is  listening 
nervously,  CAPTAIN  VALENTINE  BROWN  is 
ushered  in  by  PATTY.  He  is  bronzed  and 
soldierly.  He  wears  the  whiskers  of  the 
period,  and  is  in  uniform.  He  has  lost  his 
left  hand,  but  this  is  not  at  first  noticeable.} 
PATTY.  Miss  Susan,  'tis  Captain  Brown  ! 


n.[  QUALITY  STREET  43 

MISS  SUSAN.     Captain  Brown  ! 
VALENTINE    (greeting  her  warmly}.     Reports 
himself  at  home  again. 

MISS  SUSAN  (gratified).  You  call  this  home? 
VALENTINE.  When  the  other  men  talked  of 
their  homes,  Miss  Susan,  I  thought  of  this  room. 
(Looking  about  him.}  Maps — desks — heigho  ! 
But  still  it  is  the  same  dear  room.  I  have  often 
dreamt,  Miss  Susan,  that  I  came  back  to  it  in 
muddy  shoes.  (Seeing  Jier  alarm.)  I  have  not, 
you  know !  Miss  Susan,  I  rejoice  to  find  no 
change  in  you;  and  Miss  Phoebe — Miss  Phoebe 
of  the  ringlets — I  hope  there  be  as  little  change 
in  her? 

MISS  SUSAN  (painfully).  Phoebe  of  the  ring- 
lets !  Ah,  Captain  Brown,  you  need  not  expect 
to  see  her. 

VALENTINE.  She  is  not  here?  I  vow  it 
spoils  all  my  home-coming. 

(At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  other 
room  is  flung  open  and  PHOEBE  rushes 
out,  followed  by  WILLIAM  SMITH  who  is 
brandishing  the  cane.  VALENTINE  takes 
in  the  situation,  and  without  looking  at 


44  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE  seizes  WILLIAM  by  the  collar  and 
marches  him  out  of  the  school.} 
MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe,  did  you  see  who  it  is? 
PHOEBE.      I    saw.       (In   a   sudden   tremor.) 
Susan,  I  have  lost  all  my  looks. 

(The  pupils  are  crowding  in  from  MISS 
SUSAN'S  room  and  she  orders  them  back 
and  goes  with  them.     VALENTINE  returns, 
and  speaks  as  he  enters,  not  recognising 
PHOEBE,  whose  back  is  to  him.) 
VALENTINE.     A  young  reprobate,  madam,  but 
I  have  deposited  him  on  the  causeway.     I  fear — 
(He  stops,  puzzled  because  the  lady  has 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.) 
PHOEBE.     Captain  Brown. 
VALENTINE.     Miss  Phoebe,  it  is  you  ? 

(He  goes  to  her,  but  he  cannot  help  show- 
ing  that  her  appearance  is  a  shock  to 
him.) 

PHOEBE  (without  bitterness).  Yes,  I  have 
changed  very  much,  I  have  not  worn  well, 
Captain  Brown. 

VALENTINE  (awkwardly).  We — we  are  both 
older,  Miss  Phoebe. 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  45 

(He  holds  out  his  hand  warmly,  with 
affected  high  spirits.} 

PHOEBE  (smiling  reproachfully) .  It  was  both 
hands  when  you  went  away.  (He  has  to  show 
that  his  left  hand  is  gone  ;  she  is  overcome.)  I 
did  not  know.  (She  presses  the  empty  sleeve 
in  remorse.)  You  never  mentioned  it  in  your 
letters. 

VALENTINE  (now  grown  rather  stem).  Miss 
Phoebe,  what  did  you  omit  from  your  letters 
that  you  had  such  young  blackguards  as  that  to 
terrify  you? 

PHOEBE.  He  is  the  only  one.  Most  of  them 
are  dear  children;  and  this  is  the  last  day  of  the 
term. 

VALENTINE.  Ah,  ma'am,  if  only  you  had 
invested  all  your  money  as  you  laid  out  part  by 
my  advice.  What  a  monstrous  pity  you  did 
not. 

PHOEBE.     We  never  thought  of  it*  (\ 

VALENTINE.     You  look  so  tired. 

PHOEBE.     I  have  the  headache  to-day. 

VALENTINE.  You  did  not  use  to  have  the 
headache.  Curse  those  dear  children. 


46  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE  (bravely) .  Nay,  do  not  distress  your- 
self about  me.  Tell  me  of  yourself.  We  are  so 
proud  of  the  way  in  which  you  won  your  com- 
mission. Will  you  leave  the  army  now  ? 

VALENTINE.  Yes;  and  I  have  some  intention 
of  pursuing  again  the  old  life  in  Quality  Street. 
(He  is  not  a  man  who  has  reflected  much.  He  has 
come  back  thinking  that  all  the  adventures  have 
been  his,  and  that  the  old  life  in  Quality  Street  has 
waited,  as  in  a  sleep,  to  be  resumed  on  the  day  of 
his  return.)  I  came  here  in  such  high  spirits, 
Miss  Phoebe. 

PHOEBE  (with  a  wry  smile) .  The  change  in  me 
depresses  you. 

VALENTINE.  I  was  in  hopes  that  you  and  Miss 
Susan  would  be  going  to  the  ball.  I  had  brought 
cards  for  you  with  me  to  make  sure. 

(She  is  pleased  and  means  to  accept.  He 
sighs,  and  she  understands  that  he  thinks 
her  too  old.) 

PHOEBE.  But  now  you  see  that  my  dancing 
days  are  done. 

VALENTINE  (uncomfortably) .     Ah,  no. 

PHOEBE  (taking  care  he  shall  not  see  that  he  has 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  47 

hurt  her).  But  you  will  find  many  charming 
partners.  Some  of  them  have  been  my  pupils. 
There  was  even  a  pupil  of  mine  who  fought  at 
Waterloo. 

VALENTINE.  Young  Blades ;  I  have  heard 
him  on  it.  (She  puts  her  hand  wearily  to  her 
head).  Miss  Phoebe — what  a  dull  grey  world 
it  is! 

(She  turns  away  to  hide  her  emotion,  and 
MISS  SUSAN  comes  in.) 

MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe,  I  have  said  that  you 
will  not  take  the  Latin  class  to-day,  and  I  am 
dismissing  them. 
VALENTINE.     Latin  ? 

PHOEBE  (rather  defiantly).  I  am  proud  to 
teach  it.  (Breaking  down.}  Susan — his  arm — 
have  you  seen  ? 

(MISS  SUSAN  also  is  overcome,  but  recovers 
as  the  children  crowd  in.) 
MISS    SUSAN.     Hats    off,    gentlemen    salute, 
ladies  curtsy — to  the  brave  Captain  Brown. 

(CAPTAIN  BROWN  salutes  them  awkwardly, 
and  they  cheer  him,  to  his  great  discomfort, 
as  they  pass  out.) 


48  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

VALENTINE  (when  they  have  gone}.  A  terrible 
ordeal,  ma'am. 

(The  old  friends  look  at  each  other,  and 
there  is  a  silence.  VALENTINE  feels  that 
all  the  fine  tales  and  merry  jests  he  has 
brought  back  for  the  ladies  have  turned 
into  dead  things.  He  wants  to  go  away 
and  think.} 

PHOEBE.     I  wish  you  very  happy  at  the  ball. 
VALENTINE  (sighing}.     Miss  Susan,  cannot  we 
turn  all  these  maps  and  horrors  out  till  the 
vacation  is  over  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  Indeed,  sir,  we  always  do.  By 
to-morrow  this  will  be  my  dear  blue  and  white 
room  again,  and  that  my  sweet  spare  bed- 
room. 

PHOEBE.     For  five  weeks  ! 

VALENTINE  (making  vain  belief}.     And  then — 

the— the  dashing  Mr.  Brown  will  drop  in  as  of 

old,  and,  behold,  Miss  Susan  on  her  knees  once 

more  putting  tucks  into  my  little  friend  the 

ottoman,  and  Miss  Phoebe — Miss  Phoebe 

PHOEBE.     Phoebe  of  the  ringlets ! 
(She  goes  out  quietly.} 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  49 

VALENTINE  (miserably).  Miss  Susan,  what  a 
shame  it  is. 

MISS  SUSAN  (hotly).     Yes,  it  is  a  shame. 

VALENTINE  (suddenly  become  more  of  a  man). 
The  brave  Captain  Brown  !  Good  God,  ma'am, 
how  much  more  brave  are  the  ladies  who  keep 
a  school. 

(PATTY    shows    in    two    visitors,    MISS 

CHARLOTTE  PARRATT  and  ENSIGN  BLADES. 

^^yjr'      CHARLOTTE  is  a  pretty  minx  who  we  are 
glad  to  say  does  not  reside  in  Quality 
hA/          \\  V/g      Street,  and  BLADES  is  a  callow  youth,  in- 
yw^i  viting  admiration.) 

CHARLOTTE  (as  they  salute).  But  I  did  not 
know  you  had  company,  Miss  Susan. 

MISS  SUSAN.  'Tis  Captain  Brown — Miss 
Charlotte  Parratt. 

CHARLOTTE  (gushing) .     The  heroic  Brown  ? 
VALENTINE.     Alas,    no,    ma'am,    the    other 
one. 

CHARLOTTE.  Miss  Susan,  do  you  see  who 
accompanies  me? 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  cannot  quite  recall 

BLADES.     A  few  years  ago,  ma'am,  there  sat 


50  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

in  this  room  a  scrubby,  inky  little  boy — I  was 
that  boy. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Can  it  be  our  old  pupil — Ensign 
Blades? 

(She  thinks  him  very  fine,  and  he  bows, 
well  pleased.) 

BLADES.  Once  a  little  boy  and  now  your 
most  obedient,  ma'am. 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  have  come  to  recall  old 
memories  ? 

BLADES.  Not  precisely;  I — Charlotte, 
explain. 

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign  Blades  wishes  me  to 
say  that  it  must  seem  highly  romantic  to 
you  to  have  had  a  pupil  who  has  fought  at 
Waterloo. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Not  exactly  romantic.  I  trust, 
sir,  that  when  you  speak  of  having  been  our 
pupil  you  are  also  so  obliging  as  to  mention 
that  it  was  during  our  first  year.  Otherwise  it 
makes  us  seem  so  elderly. 

(He  bows  again,  in  what  he  believes  to  be  a 
quizzical  manner.) 

CHARLOTTE.     Ensign  Blades  would  be  pleased 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  51 

to  hear,  Miss  Susan,  what  you  think  of  him  as  a 
whole. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Indeed,  sir,  I  th'nk  you  are 
monstrous  fine.  (Innocently.}  It  quite  awes  me 
to  remember  that  we  used  to  whip  him. 

VALENTINE  (delighted}.  Whipped  him,  Miss 
Susan !  (In  solemn  burlesque  of  CHARLOTTE.) 
Ensign  Blades  wishes  to  indicate  that  it  was 
more  than  Buonaparte  could  do.  We  shall 
meet  again,  bright  boy. 

(He  makes  his  adieux  and  goes.} 

BLADES.  Do  you  think  he  was  quizzing 
me? 

MISS  SUSAN  (simply}.     I  cannot  think  so. 

BLADES.     He  said  'bright  boy,'  ma'am. 

MISS  SUSAN.  I  am  sure,  sir,  he  did  not 
mean  it. 

(PHOEBE  returns.} 

PHOEBE.  Charlotte,  I  am  happy  to  see  you. 
You  look  delicious,  my  dear — so  young  and 
fresh. 

CHARLOTTE.  La !  Do  you  think  so,  Miss 
Phoebe? 

BLADES.     Miss  Phoebe,  your  obedient. 


52  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  It  is  Ensign  Blades !  But  how 
kind  of  you,  sir,  to  revisit  the  old  school.  Please 
to  sit  down. 

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign  Blades  has  a  favour  to 
ask  of  you,  Miss  Phoebe. 

BLADES.  I  learn,  ma'am,  that  Captain  Brown 
has  obtained  a  card  for  you  for  the  ball,  and  I 
am  here  to  solicit  for  the  honour  of  standing  up 
with  you. 

(For   the    moment   PHOEBE    is  flattered. 
Here,  she  believes,  is  some  one  who  does 
not  think  her  too  old  for  the  dance.     Then 
she  perceives  a  meaning  smile  pass  between 
CHARLOTTE  and  the  ENSIGN.) 
PHOEBE  (paling).     Is  it  that  you  desire  to 
make  sport  of  me  ? 

BLADES  (honestly  distressed).     Oh  no,  ma'am, 
I  vow — but  I — I  am  such  a  quiz,  ma'am. 
MISS  SUSAN.     Sister ! 

PHOEBE.  I  am  sorry,  sir,  to  have  to  deprive 
you  of  some  entertainment,  but  I  am  not  going 
to  the  ball. 

MISS  SUSAN  (haughtily).  Ensign  Blades,  I 
bid  you  my  adieux. 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  53 

BLADES  (ashamed).  If  I  have  hurt  Miss 
Phoebe's  feelings  I  beg  to  apologise. 

MISS  SUSAN.  If  you  have  hurt  them.  Oh, 
sir,  how  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  be  as  silly 
as  you  seem  to  be. 

BLADES  (who  cannot  find  the  answer}.  Charlotte 
— explain. 

(But  CHARLOTTE  considers  that  their  visit 
has  not  been  sufficiently  esteemed  and 
departs  with  a  cold  curtsy,  taking  him 
with  her.} 

(MISS  SUSAN  turns  sympathetically  to 
PHOEBE,  but  PHOEBE,  fighting  with  her 
pain,  sits  down  at  the  spinet  and  plays 
at  first  excitedly  a  gay  tune,  then  slowly 
then  comes  to  a  stop  with  her  head  bowed. 
Soon  she  jumps  up  courageously,  brushes 
away  her  distress,  gets  an  algebra  book  from 
the  desk  and  sits  down  to  study  it.  MISS 
SUSAN  is  at  the  window,  where  ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  now  seen  passing  in  ball 
attire.) 

MISS  SUSAN.     What  book  is  it,  Phoebe  ? 
PHOEBE.     It  is  an  algebra. 


54  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN.  They  are  going  by  to  the  ball. 
(In  anger.}  My  Phoebe  should  be  going  to  the 
ball,  too. 

PHOEBE.  You  jest,  Susan.  (MISS  SUSAN 
watches  her  read.  PHOEBE  has  to  wipe  away  a 
tear;  soon  she  rises  and  gives  way  to  the  emotion 
she  has  been  suppressing  ever  since  the  entrance 
of  VALENTINE.)  Susan,  I  hate  him.  Oh,  Susan, 
I  could  hate  him  if  it  were  not  for  his  poor 
hand. 

MISS  SUSAN.     My  dear. 

PHOEBE.  He  thought  I  was  old,  because  I  am 
weary,  and  he  should  not  have  forgotten.  I  am 
only  thirty.  Susan,  why  does  thirty  seem  so 
much  more  than  twenty-nine  I  (As  if  VALENTINE 

/  T-- 

were  present.}  /Oh,  sir,  how  dare  you  look  so 
pityingly  at  meT  Because  I  have  had  to  work 
so  hard, — is  it  a  crime  when  a  woman  works? 
Because  I  have  tried  to  be  courageous — have 
I  been  courageous,  Susan  ?  Vk 

MISS  SUSAN.     God  knows  you  have. 

PHOEBE.  But  it  has  given  me  the  headache, 
it  has  tired  my  eyes.  Alas,  Miss  Phoebe,  all 
your  charm  has  gone,  for  you  have  the  headache, 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  55 

"  ;   1    ;     ;    r    < 

and  your  eyes  are  tired./  He  is  dancing  with 
Charlotte  Parratt  now,  Susan.  \JI  vow,  Miss 
Charlotte,  you  are  selfish  and  silly,  but  you  are 
sweet  eighteen/  'Qh  la,  Captain  Brown,  what 
a  quiz  you  are.'  That  delights  him,  Susan;  see 
how  he  waggles  his  silly  head. ) 

MISS  SUSAN.     Charlotte  Parratt  is  a  goose. 

PHOEBE.  'Tis  what  gentlemen  prefer.  If 
there  were  a  sufficient  number  of  geese  to  go 
round,  Susan.,  no  woman  of  sense  would  ever  get 
a  husband.  (  *  Chiming  Miss  Charlotte,  you  are 
like  a  garden;  Miss  Phoebe  was  like  a  garden 
once,  but  'tis  a  faded  garden  now.*y 

MISS  SUSAN.     If  to  be  ladylike 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  I  am  tired  of  being  ladylike. 
I  am  a  young  woman  still,  and  to  be  ladylike  is 
not  enough.  I  wish  to  be  bright  and  thoughtless 
and  merry.  /It  is  every  woman's  birthright  to 
be  petted  ana  admired;  I  wish  to  be  petted 
and  admired.  Was  I  born  to  be  confined 
within  these  four  walls?  Are  they  the  world, 
Susan,  or  is  there  anything  beyond  them?  I 
want  to  know.  My  eyes  are  tired  because  for 
ten  years  they  have  seen  nothing  but  maps 


56  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

and  desks.  Ten  years  !  Ten  years  ago  I  went 
to  bed  a  young  girl  and  I  woke  with  this  cap  on 
my  head.  It  is  not  fair.  This  is  not  me,  Susan, 
this  is  some  other  person,  I  want  to  be  myself .  /> 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  Phoebe,  you  who  have 
always  been  so  patient ! 

PHOEBE.  Oh  no,  not  always.  If  you  only 
knew  how  I  have  rebelled  at  times,  you  would 
turn  from  me  in  horror.  Susan,  I  have  a 
picture  of  myself  as  I  used  to  be;  ( I  sometimes 
look  at  it.  I  sometimes  kiss  it,  and  say,  'Poor 
girl,  they,  have  all  forgotten  you.  But  I  re- 
member. 'J 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  cannot  recall  it. 

PHOEBE.  I  keep  it  locked  away  in  my  room. 
Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?  I  shall  bring  it  down. 
My  room !  Oh,  Susan,  it  is  there  that  the 
Phoebe  you  think  so  patient  has  the  hardest  fight 
with  herself,  for  there  I  have  seemed  to  hear  and 
see  the  Phoebe  of  whom  this  (looking  at  herself) 
is  but  an  image  in  a  distorted  glass.  ,» I  have 
heard  her  singing  as  if  she  thought  she  was  still 
a  girl.  I  have  heard  her  weeping;  perhaps  it 
was  only  I  who  was  weeping;  but  she  seemed 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  57 

to  cry  to  me,  *  Let  me  out  of  this  prison,  give  me 
back  the  years  you  have  taken  from  me.  Oh, 
where  are  my  pretty  curls  ? '  she  cried.  'Where 
is  my  youth,  my  youth.' 

(She  goes  out,  leaving  MISS  SUSAN  woeful. 

Presently  SUSAN  takes  up  the  algebra  book    ^  \ 


and  reads.)  \  Jw+J.  \M<  *         njjkal  £>>** 

MISS  SUSAN.  'A  stroke  B  multiplied  by  B 
stroke  C  equal  AB  stroke  a  little  2;  stroke  AC 
add  BC.  "Poor  Phoebe!"  Multiply  by  C 
stroke  A  and  we  get — Poor  Phoebe !  C  a  B 
stroke  a  little  2  stroke  AC  little  2  add  BC.  "Oh, 
I  cannot  believe  it ! "  Stroke  a  little  2  again, 
add  AB  little  2  add  a  little  2  C  stroke  a  BC.'  .  .  . 

(PATTY  comes  in  with  the  lamp.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  spirit) .     Patty,  I  will  not  be 
dictated    to.     (PATTY    looks    out    at    window.)     0-^ 
'  Draw  the  curtains  at  once.     I  cannot    allow 
you  to  stand  gazing  at  the  foolish  creatures  who 
crowd  to  a  ball. 

PATTY  (closing  curtains).  I  am  not  gazing 
at  them,  ma'am ;  I  am  gazing  at  my  sweetheart. 


PATTY.     Hurting    your    poor    eyes    reading 
without  a  lamp.     Think  shame,  Miss  Susan. 


58  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN.  Your  sweetheart  ?  (Softly.)  I 
did  not  know  you  had  one. 

PATTY.  Nor  have  I,  ma'am,  as  yet.  But  J 
looks  out,  and  thinks  I  to  myself,  at  any  moment 
he  may  turn  the  corner.  I  ha'  been  looking  out 
at  windows  waiting  for  him  to  oblige  by  turning 
the  corner  this  fifteen  years. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Fifteen  years,  and  still  you  are 
hopeful  ? 

PATTY.  There  is  not  a  more  hopeful  woman  in 
all  the  king's  dominions.  ^ 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  who  are  so  much  older  than 
Miss  Phoebe. 

PATTY.  Yes,  ma'am,  I  ha'  the  advantage  of 
her  by  ten  years. 

MISS  SUSAN.  It  would  be  idle  to  pretend  that 
you  are  specially  comely. 

PATTY.  That  may  be,  but  my  face  is  my  own, 
and  the  more  I  see  it  in  the  glass  the  more  it 
pleases  me.  I  never  look  at  it  but  I  say  to 
myself,  *  Who  is  to  be  the  lucky  man  ? ' 

MISS  SUSAN.     'Tis  wonderful. 

PATTY.  This  will  be  a  great  year  for  females, 
ma'am.  Think  how  many  of  the  men  that 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  59 

marched  away  strutting  to  the  wars  have  come 
back  limping.  Who  is  to  take  off  their  wooden 
legs  of  an  evening,  Miss  Susan  ?  You,  ma'am, 
or  me  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.     Patty ! 

PATTY  (doggedly}.  Or  Miss  Phoebe?  (With feel- 
ing.} The  pretty  thing  that  she  was,  Miss  Susan. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Do  you  remember,  Patty?  I 
think  there  is  no  other  person  who  remembers 
unless  it  be  the  Misses  Willoughby  and  Miss 
Henrietta. 

PATTY  (eagerly}.  Give  her  a  chance,  ma'am,, 
and  take  her  to  the  balls.  There  be  three  of 
them  this  week,  and  the  last  ball  will  be  the  best, 
for  'tis  to  be  at  the  barracks,  and  you  will  need 
a  carriage  to  take  you  there,  and  there  will  be 
the  packing  of  you  into  it  by  gallant  squires 
and  the  unpacking  of  you  out,  and  other 
devilries. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Patty ! 

PATTY.  If  Miss  Phoebe  were  to  dress  young 
again  and  put  candles  in  her  eyes  that  used  to  be 
so  bright,  and  coax  back  her  curls— 

(PHOEBE    returns,    and   a    great    change 


60  QUALITY  STREET 


has  come  over  her.  She  is  young  and 
pretty  again.  She  is  wearing  the  wedding- 
gown  of  ACT  i.,  her  ringlets  are  glorious, 
her  figure  youthful,  her  face  flushed  and 
animated.  PATTY  is  the  first  to  see  her, 
and  is  astonished.  PHOEBE  signs  to  her 
to  go.) 

PHOEBE  (when  PATTY  has  gone).  Susan.  (MISS 
SUSAN  sees  and  is  speechless.)  Susan,  this  is  the 
picture  of  my  old  self  that  I  keep  locked  away 
in  my  room,  and  sometimes  take  out  of  its 
box  to  look  at.  ,  This  is  the  girl  who  kisses 
herself  in  the  glass  and  sings  and  dances  with 
glee  until  I  put  her  away  frightened  lest  you 
should  hear  her. 

MISS  SUSAN.     How  marvellous !    Oh,  Phoebe. 
PHOEBE.     Perhaps  I  should  not  do  it,  but  it 
is  so  easy.    I  have  but  to  put  on  the  old  wedding- 
gown   and  tumble  my  curls   out  of  the  cap. 
(Passionately.)     Sister,  am  I  as  changed  as  he 


MISS  SUSAN.     You  almost  frighten  me. 

(The  band  is  heard.) 
PHOEBE.     The  music  is  calling  to  us.     Susan, 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  61 

I  will  celebrate  Waterloo  in  a  little  ball  of  my 
own.  See,  my  curls  have  begun  to  dance, 
they  are  so  anxious  to  dance.  One  dance, 
Susan,  to  Phoebe  of  the  ringlets,  and  then 
I  will  put  her  away  in  her  box  and  never 
look  at  her  again.  Ma'am,  may  I  have  the 
honour  ?  Nay,  then  I  shall  dance  alone.^ 
dances.) .  Oh,  Susan,  I  almost  wish  I  were  a 

goose.   *M  JjU 

(Prescjit^  PATTY  returns.     She  gazes  at 
MISS  PHOEBE  dancing.) 

PATTY.     Miss  Phoebe  !  ,  ^  rv, 

PHOEBE  (still  dancing).  Not  Miss  Phoebe, 
Patty.  I  am  not  myself  to-night,  I  am — let  me 
see,  I  am  my  niece.  <J^r^ 

PATTY  (in  a  whisper  to  SUSAN).  But  Miss 
Susan,  'tis  Captain  Brown. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Oh,  stop,  Phoebe,  stop  ! 
PATTY.     Nay,  let  him  see  her  ! 

(MISS  SUSAN  hurries  scandalised  into  the 
other  room  as  VALENTINE  enters.) 
VALENTINE.     I  ventured  to  come  back  be- 
cause      (PHOEBE)    turns   to   him — he   stops 

abruptly,    bewildered.)       I    beg    your    pardon, 


62  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

madam,  I  thought  it  was  Miss  Susan  or  Miss 
Phoebe. 

(His  mistake  surprises  her,  but  she  is  in 
a  wild  mood  and  curtsies,  then  turns 
away  and  smiles.  He  stares  as  if  half- 
convinced.) 

PATTY  (with  an  inspiration).  'Tis  my 
mistresses'  niece,  sir;  she  is  on  a  visit 
here. 

(He  is  deceived.     He  bows  gallantly,  then 
remembers  the  object  of  his  visit.     He  pro- 
duces a  bottle  of  medicine.) 
VALENTINE.     Patty,  I  obtained  this  at  the 
apothecary's  for  Miss  Phoebe's  headache.     It 
should  be  taken  at  once. 

PATTY.     Miss  Phoebe  is  lying  down,  sir. 
VALENTINE.     Is  she  asleep  ? 
PATTY  (demurely).     No,  sir,  I  think  she  be 
wide  awake. 

VALENTINE.     It  may  soothe  her. 
PHOEBE.     Patty,  take  it  to  Aunt  Phoebe  at 
A*^  once. 

(PATTY  goes  out  sedately  with  the  medicine.) 
VALENTINE  (after  a  little  awkwardness,  which 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  63 

PHOEBE  enjoys).  Perhaps  I  may  venture  to 
present  myself,  Miss — Miss ? 

PHOEBE.     Miss — Liwy,  sir. 

VALENTINE.  I  am  Captain  Brown,  Miss 
Livvy,  an  old  friend  of  both  your  aunts. 

PHOEBE  (curtsying}.  I  have  heard  them 
speak  of  a  dashing  Mr.  Brown.  But  I  think  it 
cannot  be  the  same. 

VALENTINE  (a  little  chagrined).  Why  not, 
ma'am  ? 

PHOEBE.     I  ask  your  pardon,  sir. 

VALENTINE.  I  was  sure  you  must  be  related. 
Indeed,  for  a  moment  the  likeness — even  the 
voice 

PHOEBE  (pouting).  La,  sir,  you  mean  I  am 
like  Aunt  Phoebe.  Every  one  says  so — and 
indeed  'tis  no  compliment. 

VALENTINE.  'Twould  have  been  a  compli- 
ment once.  You  must  be  a  daughter  of  the 
excellent  Mr.  James  Throssel  who  used  to 
reside  at  Great  Buckland, 

PHOEBE.     He  is  still  there. 

VALENTINE.  A  tedious  twenty  miles  from 
here,  as  I  remember. 


64  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  La !  I  have  found  the  journey  a 
/monstrous  quick  one,  sir. 

(The  band  is  again  heard.  She  runs  to  the 
window  to  peep  between  the  curtains,  and 
his  eyes  follow  her  admiringly.) 

VALENTINE  (eagerly) .  Miss  Livvy,  you  go  to 
the  ball? 

PHOEBE.     Alas,  sir,  I  have  no  card. 

VALENTINE.  I  have  two  cards  for  your 
aunts.  As  Miss  Phoebe  has  the  headache,  your 
Aunt  Susan  must  take  you  to  the  ball. 

PHOEBE.  Oh,  oh !  (Her  feet  move  to  the 
music.)  Sir,  I  cannot  control  my  feet. 

VALENTINE.  They  are  already  at  the  ball, 
ma'am;  you  must  follow  them. 

PHOEBE  (wiih  all  the  pent-up  mischief  of  ten 
years).  Oh,  sir,  do  you  think  some  pretty 
gentleman  might  be  partial  to  me  at  the  ball  ? 

VALENTINE.     If  that  is  your  wish 

PHOEBE.  I  should  love,  sir,  to  inspire  frenzy 
in  the  breast  of  the  male.  (With  sudden  col- 
lapse.) I  dare  not  go — I  dare  not. 

VALENTINE.     Miss  Livvy,  I  vow 

(He  turns  eagerly  to  MISS  SUSAN,  who  enters.) 


ii.]  QUALITY  STREET  65 

I  have  ventured,  Miss  Susan,  to  introduce  my- 
self to  your  charming  niece. 

(MISS  SUSAN  would  like  to  run  away 
again,  but  the  wicked  MISS  PHOEBE  is 
determined  to  have  her  help.) 

PHOEBE.  Aunt  Susan,  do  not  be  angry 
with  your  Liwy — your  Liwy,  Aunt  Susan. 
This  gentleman  says  he  is  the  dashing  Mr. 
Brown,  he  has  cards  for  us  for  the  ball, 
Auntie.  Of  course  we  cannot  go — we  dare 
not  go.  Oh,  Auntie,  hasten  into  your  bom- 
bazine. 

MISS  SUSAN  (staggered').    Phoebe 

PHOEBE.  Aunt  Phoebe  wants  me  to  go.  If  I 
say  she  does  you  know  she  does  ! 

MISS  SUSAN.     But  my  dear,  my  dear. 

PHOEBE.  Oh,  Auntie,  why  do  you  talk  so 
much.  ^  Come,  come. 

VALENTINE.  I  shall  see  to  it,  Miss  Susan,  that 
your  niece  has  a  charming  ball. 

PHOEBE.  He  means  he  will  find  me  sweet 
partners. 

VALENTINE.  Nay,  ma'am,  I  mean  I  shall  be 
your  partner. 


66  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE  (who  is  not  an  angel) .  Aunt  Susan,  he 
still  dances ! 

VALENTINE.     Still,  ma'am? 

PHOEBE.  Oh,  sir,  you  are  indeed  dashing. 
Nay,  sir,  please  not  to  scowl,  I  could  not  avoid 
noticing  them. 

VALENTINE.    Noticing  what,  Miss  Livvy  ? 

PHOEBE.     The  grey  hairs,  sir.. 

VALENTINE.  I  vow,  ma'am,  there  is  not  one 
in  my  head. 

PHOEBE.  He  is  such  a  quiz.  I  so  love  a 
quiz. 

VALENTINE.  Then,  ma'am,  I  shall  do  nothing 
but  quiz  you  at  the  ball.  Miss  Susan,  I  beg 
you 

MISS  SUSAN.    Oh,  sir,  dissuade  her. 

VALENTINE.    Nay,  I  entreat. 

PHOEBE.    Auntie ! 

MISS  SUSAN.  Think,  my  dear,  think,  we  dare 
not. 

PHOEBE  (shuddering).  No,  we  dare  not,  I 
cannot  go. 

VALENTINE.     Indeed,  ma'am. 

'••"*    ^l.Jr 

PHOEBE.     Tis  impossible. 
V 


QUALITY  STREET  67 


(She  really  means  it,  and  had  not  the  music 
here  taken  an  unfair  advantage  of  her  it  is 
certain  that  MISS  PHOEBE  would  never  have 
gone  to  the  ball.  In  after  years  she  and 
MISS  SUSAN  would  have  talked  together 
of  the  monstrous  evening  when  she  nearly 
lost  her  head,  but  regained  it  before  it  could 
fall  off.  But  suddenly  the  music  swells 
so  alluringly  that  it  is  a  thousand  fingers 
beckoning  her  to  all  the  balls  she  has  missed, 
and  in  a  transport  she  whirls  MISS  SUSAN 
from  the  blue  and  white  room  to  the 
bed-chamber  where  is  the  bombazine. 
VALENTINE  awaits  their  return  like  a 
conqueror,  until  MISS  LIWY'S  words  about 
his  hair  return  to  trouble  him.  He  is  stoop- 
ing, gazing  intently  into  a  small  mirror, 
extracting  the  grey  hairs  one  by  one,  when 
PATTY  ushers  in  the  sisters  WILLOUGHBY 
and  MISS  HENRIETTA.  MISS  HENRIETTA  is 
wearing  the  new  veil,  which  opens  or  closes 
like  curtains  when  she  pulls  a  string.  She 
opens  it  now  to  see  what  he  is  doing,  and 
the  slight  sound  brings  him  to  his  feet.} 


QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


MISS  HENEIETTA.  'Tis  but  the  new  veil,  sir; 
there  is  no  cause  for  alarm. 

(They  have  already  learned  from  PATTY, 
we  may  be  sure,  that  he  is  in  the  house,  but 
they  express  genteel  surprise.) 

MISS  FANNY.  Mary,  surely  we  are  addressing 
the  gallant  Captain  Brown  ! 

VALENTINE.  It  is  the  Misses  Willoughby  and 
Miss  Henrietta.  'Tis  indeed  a  gratification  to 
renew  acquaintance  with  such  elegant  and  re- 
spectable females. 

(The  greetings  are  elaborate.) 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  You  have  seen  Miss 
Phoebe,  sir? 

VALENTINE.  I  have  had  the  honour.  Miss 
Phoebe,  I  regret  to  say,  is  now  lying  down  with 
the  headache.  (The  ladies  are  too  delicately 
minded  to  exchange  glances  before  a  man,  but  they 
are  privately  of  opinion  that  this  meeting  after  ten 
years  with  the  dazzling  BROWN  has  laid  MISS 
PHOEBE  low.  They  are  in  a  twitter  of  sympathy 
with  her,  and  yearning  to  see  MISS  SUSAN  alone,  so 
that  they  may  draw  from  her  an  account  of  the  excit- 
ing meeting.)  You  do  not  favour  the  ball  to-night? 

A 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  69 

MISS  FANNY.  I  confess  balls  are  distasteful 
to  me. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  'Twill  be  a  mixed  assembly. 
I  am  credibly  informed  that  the  woollen  draper's 
daughter  has  obtained  a  card. 

VALENTINE  (gravely) .  Good  God,  ma'am,  is  it 
possible  ? 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  We  shall  probably  spend 
the  evening  here  with  Miss  Susan  at  the  card 
table. 

VALENTINE.  But  Miss  Susan  goes  with  me  to 
the  ball,  ma'am.  . 

(This  is  scarcely  less  exciting  to  them  than 
the  overthrow  of  the  Corsican.} 
VALENTINE.     Nay,  I  hope  there  be  no  im- 
propriety.    Miss  Liwy  will  accompany  her. 
MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (bewildered}.     Miss  Liwy  ? 
VALENTINE.     Their  charming  niece. 

(The  ladies  repeat  the  word  in  a  daze.} 
MISS  FANNY.     They  had  not  apprised  us  that 
they  have  a  visitor. 

(They  think  this  reticence  unfriendly,  and 
are  wondering  whether  they  ought  not  to 
retire  hurt,  when  MISS  SUSAN  enters  in  her 


70  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

bombazine,  wraps,  and  bonnet.  She  starts 
at  sight  of  them,  and  has  the  bearing  of  a 
guilty  person.) 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (stiffly) .  We  have  but  now 
been  advertised  of  your  intention  for  this  even- 
ing, Susan. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  We  deeply  regret  our 
intrusion. 

MISS  SUSAN  (wistfully).  Please  not  to  be 
piqued,  Mary.  'Twas  so — sudden. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  I  cannot  remember, 
Susan,  that  your  estimable  brother  had  a 
daughter.  I  thought  all  the  three  were 
sons. 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  deplorable  readiness) .     Three 
sons  and  a  daughter.     Surely  you  remember 
-   little  Livvy,  Mary  ? 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY   (bluntly).     No,   Susan,  I 


do  not. 

MISS  SUSAN.     I — I  must  go.     I  hear  Liwy 
calling 


. 


MISS  FANNY  (tartly).     I  hear  nothing  but  the 
band.     We  are  not  to  see  your  niece? 

MISS     SUSAN.       Another     time — to-morrow. 


n.]  QUALITY  STREET  71 

Pray  rest  a  little  before  you  depart,  Mary.     I — 

I — Phoebe  Livvy — the  headache 

(But  before  she  can  go  another  lady  enters 
gaily.) 
VALENTINE.     Ah,  here  is  Miss  Liwy. 

(The  true  culprit  is  more  cunning  than 
MISS  SUSAN,  and  before  they  can  see  her 
she  quickly  pulls  the  strings  of  her  bonnet, 
which  is  like  MISS  HENRIETTA'S,  and  it 
obscures  her  face.) 

Miss  SUSAN.     This — this  is  my  niece,  Liwy — 
Miss  Willoughby,  Miss  Henrietta,  Miss  Fanny 
Willoughby. 
VALENTINE.     Ladies,  excuse  my  impatience, 

but 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  One  moment,  sir.  May 
I  ask,  Miss  Liwy,  how  many  brothers  you 
have. 

PHOEBE.     Two. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     I  thank  you. 

(She  looks  strangely  at  MISS  SUSAN,  and 
MISS  PHOEBE  knows  that  shehasblundered.) 
PHOEBE  (at  a  venture).     Excluding  the  un- 
happy Thomas. 


72 


QUALITY  STREET  [ACT  n. 


anss  SUSAN  (clever  for  the  only  moment  in  her 
life).     We  never  mention  him. 

(They  are  swept  away  on  the  arms  of  the 
impatient  CAPTAIN.) 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY,  MISS  HENRIETTA,  AND  MISS 

FANNY.     What  has  Thomas  done  ? 

(They  have  no  suspicion  as  yet  of  what 
MISS  PHOEBE  has  done;  but  they  believe 
there  is  a  scandal  in  the  Throssel  family  t 
and  tltey  will  not  sleep  happily  until  they 
know  what  it  is.) 


End  of  Act  II. 

*#U, 

^ 


ACT  III 


ACT    III 
THE  BALL 

A  ball,  but  not  the  one  to  which  we  have  seen  Miss 
Susan  and  Miss  Phoebe  rush  forth  upon  their  career 
of  crime.  This  is  the  third  of  the  series,  the  one  of 
which  Patty  has  foretold  with  horrid  relish  that  it 
promises  to  be  specially  given  over  to  devilries.  The 
scene  is  a  canvas  pavilion,  used  as  a  retiring  room  and 
for  card  play,  and  through  an  opening  in  the  back  we 
have  glimpses  of  gay  uniforms  and  fair  ladies  inter* 
mingled  in  the  bravery  of  the  dance.  There  is  coming 
and  going  through  this  opening,  and  also  through  slits 
in  the  canvas.  The  pavilion  is  fantastically  decorated 
in  various  tastes,  and  is  lit  with  lanterns.  A  good- 
natured  moon,  nevertheless,  shines  into  it  benignly. 
Some  of  the  card  tables  are  neglected,  but  at  one  a  game 
of  quadrille  is  in  progress.  There  is  much  movement 
and  hilarity,  but  none  from  one  side  of  the  tent,  where 
sit  several  young  ladies,  all  pretty,  all  appealing  and 
all  woeful,  for  no  gallant  comes  to  ask  them  if  he  may 
have  the  felicity.  The  nervous  woman  chaperoning 

75 


76  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

them,  and  afraid  to  meet  their  gaze  lest  they  scowl  or 
weep  in  reply,  is  no  other  than  Miss  Susan,  the  most 
unhappy  Miss  Susan  we  have  yet  seen;  she  sits  there 
gripping  her  composure  in  both  hands.  Far  less 
susceptible  to  shame  is  the  brazen  Phoebe,  who  may  be 
seen  passing  the  opening  on  the  arm  of  a  cavalier,  and 
flinging  her  trembling  sister  a  mischievous  kiss.  The 
younger  ladies  note  the  incident ;  alas,  they  are 
probably  meant  to  notice  it,  and  they  cower,  as  under 
a  blow. 


HARRIET  (a  sad-eyed,  large  girl,  who  we  hope 
found  a  romance  at  her  next  ball).  Are  we  so 
disagreeable  that  no  one  will  dance  with  us? 
Miss  Susan,  'tis  infamous;  they  have  eyes  for 
no  one  but  your  niece. 

CHARLOTTE.  Miss  Livvy  has  taken  Ensign 
Blades  from  me. 

HARRIET.  If  Miss  Phoebe  were  here,  I  am 
sure  she  would  not  allow  her  old  pupils  to  be  so 
neglected. 

(The  only  possible  reply  for  MISS  SUSAN 
is  to  make  herself  look  as  small  as  possible. 
A  lieutenant  comes  to  them,  once  a  scorner 


ni.]  QUALITY  STREET  77 

of  woman,  but  now  SPICER  the  bewitched. 
HARRIET  has  a  moment's  hope.} 

How  do  you  do,  sir  ? 

SPICER  (with  dreadful  indifference,  though  she 
is  his  dear  cousin}.  Nay,  ma'am,  how  do  you 
do?  (Wistfully.}  May  I  stand  beside  you, 
Miss  Susan  ? 

(He  is  a  most  melancholic  young  man, 
and  he  fidgets  her.} 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  spirit}.  You  have  been 
standing  beside  me,  sir,  nearly  all  the  evening. 

SPICER  (humbly.  It  is  strange  to  think  that 
he  had  been  favourably  mentioned  in  despatclws} . 
Indeed,  I  cannot  but  be  cognisant  of  the  suf- 
ferings I  cause  by  attaching  myself  to  you  in 
this  unseemly  manner.  Accept  my  assurances, 
ma'am,  that  you  have  my  deepest  sympathy. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Then  why  do  you  do  it? 

SPICER.  Because  you  are  her  aunt,  ma'am. 
It  is  a  scheme  of  mine  by  which  I  am  in  hopes  to 
soften  her  heart.  Her  affection  for  you,  ma'am, 
is  beautiful  to  observe,  and  if  she  could  be  per- 
suaded that  I  seek  her  hand  from  a  passionate 
desire  to  have  you  for  my  Aunt  Susan — do 


78  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

you  perceive  anything  hopeful  in  my  scheme, 


MISS  SUSAN.    No,  sir,  I  do  not. 

(SPICER  wanders  away  gloomily,  takes  too 
much  to  drink,  and  ultimately  becomes  a 
general.  ENSIGN  BLADES  appears,  frown- 
ing, and  CHARLOTTE  ventures  to  touch  his 
sleeve.) 

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign  Blades,  I  have  not 
danced  with  you  once  this  evening. 

BLADES  (with  the  cold  brutality  of  a  lover  to 
another  she).  Nor  I  with  you,  Charlotte.  (To 
SUSAN.)  May  I  solicit  of  you,  Miss  Susan,  is 
Captain  Brown  Miss  Livvy's  guardian;  is  he 
affianced  to  her? 

MISS  SUSAN.    No,  sir. 

BLADES.  Then  by  what  right,  ma'am,  does 
he  interfere  ?  Your  elegant  niece  had  consented 
to  accompany  me  to  the  shrubbery  —  to  look  at 
the  moon.  And  now  Captain  Brown  forbids  it. 
'Tis  unendurable. 

CHARLOTTE.  But  you  may  see  the  moon  frocn 
here,  sir. 

BLADES    (glancing   at   it   contemptuously).     I 


m.]  QUALITY  STREET  79 

believe   not,   ma'am.     (The  moon   still   shines 
on.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (primly).  I  am  happy  Captain 
Brown  forbade  her. 

BLADES.  Miss  Susan,  'twas  but  because  he  is 
to  conduct  her  to  the  shrubbery  himself. 

(He  flings  out  pettishly,  and  MISS  SUSAN 
looks  pityingly  at  the  wall-flowers.) 
MISS  SUSAN.   My  poor  Charlotte !   May  I  take 
you  to  some  very  agreeable  ladies  ? 

CHARLOTTE  (tartly).     No,  you  may  not.     I  am 
going  to  the  shrubbery  to  watch  Miss  Liwy. 
MISS  SUSAN.     Please  not  to  do  that. 
CHARLOTTE  (implying  that  MISS  SUSAN  will  be 
responsible  for  her  early  death).     My  chest  is 
weak.     I  shall  sit  among  the  dew. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Charlotte,  you  terrify  me.  At 
least,  please  to  put  this  cloak  about  your 
shoulders.  Nay,  my  dear,  allow  me. 

(She  puts  a  cloak  around  CHARLOTTE, 
who  departs  vindictively  for  the  shrubbery. 
She  will  not  find  LJVVY  there,  however,  for 
next  moment  MISS  PHOEBE  darts  in  from 
the  back.) 


QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE  (in  a  gay  whisper).  Susan,  another 
offer — Major  Linkwater — rotund  man,  black 
whiskers,  fierce  expression;  he  has  rushed  away 
to  destroy  himself. 

(We  have  been  unable  to  find  any  record  of 
the  Major's  tragic  end.) 

AN  OLD  SOLDIER  (looking  up  from  a  card 
table,  whence  he  has  heard  the  raging  of  BLADES). 
Miss  Livvy,  ma'am,  what  is  this  about  the 
moon? 

(PHOEBE  smiles  roguishly.) 
PHOEBE  (looking  about  her) .     I  want  my  cloak, 
Aunt  Susan. 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  have  just  lent  it  to  poor 
Charlotte  Parratt. 
PHOEBE.     Oh,  auntie ! 

OLD  SOLDIER.  And  now  Miss  Livvy  cannot 
go  into  the  shrubbery  to  see  the  moon;  and  she 
is  so  fond  of  the  moon ! 

(MISS  PHOEBE  screws  her  nose  at  him 

merrily,    and   darts   back   to   the   dance, 

but  she  has  left  a  defender  behind  her.) 

A  GALLANT  (whose  name  we  have  not  succeeded 

in  discovering).    Am  I  to  understand,  sir,  that 


ra.]  QUALITY  STREET  81 

you  are  intimating  disparagement  of  the  moon  ? 
If  a  certain  female  has  been  graciously  pleased 
to  signify  approval  of  that  orb,  any  slight  cast 
upon  the  moon,  sir,  I  shall  regard  as  a  personal 
affront.  -^ 

OLD  SOLDIER.     Hoity-toity.  / 

(Bui  he  rises,  and  they  face  each  other, 
as  MISS  SUSAN  feels,  for  battle.  She  is 
about  to  rush  between  their  undrawn 
swords  when  there  is  a  commotion  outside; 
a  crowd  gathers  and  opens  to  allow  some 
officers  to  assist  a  fainting  woman  into  the 
tent.  It  is  MISS  PHOEBE,  and  MISS  SUSAN 
with  a  cry  goes  on  her  knees  beside  her. 
The  tent  has  filled  with  the  sympathetic 
and  inquisitive,  but  CAPTAIN  BROWN,  ^ 
v ;.  as  a  physician,  takes  command,  and  by 
his  order  they  retire.  He  finds  difficulty 
in  bringing  the  sufferer  to,  and  gets  little  '  \ 

help  from  MISS  SUSAN,  who  can  only  call    A^L^C 
upon  MISS  PHOEBE  by  name.} 
VALENTINE.     Nay,   Miss  Susan,   'tis  useless 
calling  for  Miss   Phoebe.     'Tis   my   fault;    I 
should  not  have  permitted  Miss  Livvy  to  dance 


QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


so  immoderately.     Why  do  they  delay  with  the 
cordial  ? 

(He  goes  to  the  back  to  close  the  open- 
ing, and  while  he  is  doing  so  the  incom- 
prehensible MISS  PHOEBE  seizes  the  oppor- 
tunity to  sit  up  on  her  couch  of  chairs, 
waggle  her  finger  at  MISS  SUSAN,  and  sign 
darkly  that  she  is  about  to  make  a  genteel 
recovery.} 

PHOEBE.  Where  am  I?  Is  that  you,  Aunt 
Susan  ?  What  has  happened  ? 

VALENTINE    (returning}.      Nay,    you    must 
recline,  Miss  Livvy.     You  fainted.     You  have 
over-fatigued  yourself. 
PHOEBE.     I  remember. 

(BLADES  enters  with  the  cordial.} 
VALENTINE.     You  will  sip  this  cordial. 
BLADES.     By  your  leave,  sir. 

(He  hands  it  to  PHOEBE  himself.} 
VALENTINE.     She  is  in  restored  looks  already, 
Miss  Susan. 

PHOEBE.  I  am  quite  recovered.  Perhaps 
if  you  were  to  leave  me  now  with  my  excellent 
aunt 


/-  t 

»    AjJ*M 
fc/V  */f 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  83 

VALENTINE.     Be  off  with  you,  apple  cheeks. 

BLADES.  Sir,  I  will  suffer  no  reference  to  my 
complexion;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  this  charm- 
ing lady  was  addressing  you. 

PHOEBE.  If  you  please,  both  of  you.  (They 
Retire  together,  and  no  sooner  have  they  gone  than 
MISS  PHOEBE  leaps  from  the  couch,  her  eyes 
\  sparkling.  She  presses  the  cordial  on  MISS  SUSAN.) 
*J  Nay,  drink  it,  Susan.  I  left  it  for  you  on 
purpose.  I  have  such  awful  information  to 
impart.  Drink.  (MISS  SUSAN  drinks  tremblingly 
and  then  the  bolt  is  fired.)  Susan,  Miss  Henrietta 
and  Miss  Fanny  are  here ! 

MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe ! 

PHOEBE.  Suddenly  my  eyes  lighted  on  them. 
At  once  I  slipped  to  the  ground. 

MISS  SUSAN.  You  think  they  did  not  see 
you  ? 

PHOEBE.  I  am  sure  of  it.  They  talked  for 
a  moment  to  Ensign  Blades,  and  then  turned  and 
seemed  to  be  going  towards  the  shrubbery. 

MISS  SUSAN.  He  had  heard  that  you  were 
there  with  Captain  Brown.  He  must  have  told 
them. 


84  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  I  was  not.  But  oh,  sister,  I  am 
sure  they  suspect,  else  why  should  they  be  here  ? 
They  never  frequent  balls. 

MISS  SUSAN.  They  have  suspected  for  a  week, 
ever  since  they  saw  you  in  your  veil,  Phoebe,  on 
the  night  of  the  first  dance.  How  could  they 
but  suspect,  when  they  have  visited  us  every  day 
since  then  and  we  have  always  pretended  that 
Livvy  was  gone  out. 

PHOEBE.  Should  they  see  my  face  it  will  be 
idle  to  attempt  to  deceive  them. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Idle  indeed;  Phoebe,  the 
scandal !  You — a  schoolmistress  ! 

PHOEBE.    That  is  it,  sister.    A  little  happiness 
has  gone  to  my  head  like  strong  waters. 
(She  is  very  restless  and  troubled.} 

MISS  SUSAN.     My  dear,  stand  still,  and  think. 

PHOEBE.  I  dare  not,  I  cannot.  Oh,  Susan, 
if  they  see  me  we  need  not  open  school  again. 

MISS  SUSAN.     We  shall  starve. 

PHOEBE  (passionately).  This  horrid,  forward, 
flirting,  heartless,  hateful  little  toad  of  a  Liwy. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Brother  James's  daughter,  as 
we  call  her ! 


m.]  QUALITY  STREET  85 

PHOEBE.     'Tis  all  James's  fault. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Sister,  when  you  know  that 
James  has  no  daughter  ! 

PHOEBE.  If  he  had  really  had  one,  think  you 
I  could  have  been  so  wicked  as  to  personate  her  ? 
Susan,  I  know  not  what  I  am  saying,  but  you 
know  who  it  is  that  has  turned  me  into  this 
wild  creature. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Oh,  Valentine  Brown,  how 
could  you? 

PHOEBE.  To  weary  of  Phoebe — patient,  lady- 
like Phoebe — the  Phoebe  whom  I  have  lost — to 
turn  from  her  with  a  'Bah,  you  make  me  old,' 
and  become  enamoured  in  a  night  of  a  thing  like 
this! 

MISS  SUSAN.  Yes,  yes,  indeed;  yet  he  has 
been  kind  to  us  also.  He  has  been  to  visit  us 
several  times. 

PHOEBE.  In  the  hope  to  see  her.  Was  he  not 
most  silent  and  gloomy  when  we  said  she  was 
gone  out  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  He  is  infatuate — -r-  (She 
hesitates.}  Sister,  you  are  not  partial  to  him 
still? 


86  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


PHOEBE.     No,  Susan,  no.     I  did  love  him  all 
those  years,  though  I  never  spoke  of  it  to 


put  hope  aside  at  once,  I  folded  it  up  and  kissed 
it  and  put  it  away  like  a  pretty  garment  I  could 
never  wear  again,)  I  but  loved  to  think  of  him 
as  a  noble  man.  But  he  is  not  a  noble  man, 
and  Liwy  found  it  out  in  an  hour.  The 
gallant  !  I  flirted  that  I  might  enjoy  his  fury. 
Susan,  there  has  been  a  declaration  in  his  eyes 
all  to-night,  and  when  he  cries  'Adorable  Miss 
Liwy,  be  mine,'  I  mean  to  answer  with  an 
'Oh,  la,  how  ridiculous  you  are.  You  are 
much  too  old  —  I  have  been  but  quizzing  you, 
sir.' 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  how  can  you  be  so 
cruel  ? 

PHOEBE.  (^Because  he  has  taken  from  me  the 
one  great  glory  that  is  in  a  woman's  life.  Not 
a  man's  love  —  she  can  do  without  that  —  but 
her  own  dear  sweet  love  for  him.  He  is  un- 
worthy of  my  love;  that  is  why  I  can  be  so 
cruel. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Oh,  deary 

PHOEBE.     And   now   my   triumph   is   to   be 


HI.]  QUALITY  STREET  87 

denied  me,  for  we  must  steal  away  home  before 
Henrietta  and  Fanny  see  us. 
MISS  SUSAN.     Yes,  yes. 

PHOEBE  (dispirited] .  And  to-morrow  we  must 
say  that  Livvy  has  gone  back  to  her  father,  for 
I  dare  keep  up  this  deception  no  longer.  Susan, 
let  us  go. 

(They  are  going  dejectedly,  but  are  arrested 
by  the  apparition  of  MISS  HENRIETTA  and 
MISS  FANNY  peeping  into  the  tent.  PHOEBE  j2/wk 
has  just  time  to  signify  to  her  sister  that 
she  will  confess  all  and  beg  for  mercy,  when 
the  intruders  speak.) 

MISS  HENRIETTA  (not  triumphant  but  astounded). 
You,  Miss  Phoebe  ? 

PHOEBE  (with  bowed  head).     Yes.    A 
MISS  FANNY.     How  amazing !     You  do  not 
deny,  ma'am,  that  you  are  Miss  Phoebe  ?          y\ 
PHOEBE  (making  confession).     Yes,  Fanny,  I 
am  Miss  Phoebe.   A  £  ]L&\jft 

(To    her    bewilderment    HENRIETTA    and 
FANNY  exchange  ashamed  glances.} 
MISS  HENRIETTA.     Miss  Phoebe,  we  have  done 
you  a  cruel  wrong. 

•A, 


88  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  FANNY.     Phoebe,  we  apologise. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  To  think  how  excitedly 
we  have  been  following  her  about  in  the 
shrubbery. 

MISS  FANNY.     She  is  wearing  your  cloak.  A 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  Ensign  Blades  told  us  she 
was  gone  to  the  shrubbery.  * 

MISS  FANNY.  And  we  were  convinced  there 
was  no  such  person. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.      So  of  COUFSC  WC  thought  it 

must  be  you. 

MISS   FANNY    (who  has  looked  out}.     I   can 

discern    her    in    the    shrubbery    still.     She    is 

decidedly  taller  than  Phoebe. 

MISS    HENRIETTA.     I    thought    she    looked 

taller.     I  meant  to  say  so.     Phoebe,  'twas  the 

cloak  deceived  us.     We  could  not  see  her  face. 
PHOEBE   (beginning  to  understand).     Cloak? 

You  mean,  Henrietta — you  mean,  Fanny- 
Miss  FANNY.     'Twas  wicked  of  us,  my  dear, 

but  we — we  thought  that  you  and  Miss  Livvy 

were  the  same  person.     ( TJiey  have  evidently  been 

stalking   CHARLOTTE   in   MISS   PHOEBE'S   cloak. 

MISS  SUSAN  shudders,  but  MISS  PHOEBE  utters  a 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  89 

cry  of  reproach,  and  it  is  some  time  before  they  can 
persuade  her  to  forgive  tJiem.  It  is  of  course  also 
some  time  before  we  can  forgive  MISS  PHOEBE.) 
Phoebe,  you  look  so  pretty.  Are  they  paying 
"ou  no  attentions,  my  dear  ? 

(PHOEBE  is  unable  to  resist  these  delight- 
ful openings.     The  imploring  looks  MISS 
SUSAN  gives  her  but  add  to  her  enjoyment. 
It  is  as  if  the  sense  of  fun  she  had  caged  a 
moment  ago  were  broke  loose  again.} 
PHOEBE.     Alas,  they  think  of  none  but  Liwy. 
They  come  to  me  merely  to  say  that  they  adore 
her.    A 

MISS  HENRIETTA.    Surely  not  Captain  Brown  ? 
PHOEBE.     He  is  infatuate  about  her. 
MISS  FANNY.     Poor  Phoebe ! 

(TJwy  make  much  of  her,  and  she  purrs 
naughtily  to  their  stroking,  with  lightning 
peeps  at  MISS  SUSAN.  Affronted  Pro- 
vidence seeks  to  pay  her  out  by  sending 
ENSIGN  BLADES  into  the  tent.  Then  the 
close  observer  may  see  MISS  PHOEBE'S 
heart  sink  like  a  bucket  in  a  well.  MISS 
SUSAN  steals  from  the  tent.) 


90  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  HENEIETTA.  Mr.  Blades,  I  have  been 
saying  that  if  I  were  a  gentleman  I  would  pay 
my  addresses  to  Miss  Phoebe  much  rather  than 
to  her  niece. 

BLADES.     Ma'am,  excuse  me. 

MISS  HENRIETTA  (indignant  that  MISS  PHOEBE 
should  be  slighted  so  publicly}.  Sir,  you  are  a 
most  ungallant  and  deficient  young  man. 

BLADES.     Really,  ma'am,  I  assure  you 

MISS  HENRIETTA.     Not  another  word,  sir. 

PHOEBE  (in  her  most  old-maidish  manner). 
Miss  Fanny,  Miss  Henrietta,  it  is  time  I  spoke 
plainly  to  this  gentleman.  Please  leave  him  to 
me.  Surely  'twill  come  best  from  me. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  Indeed,  yes,  if  it  be  not 
too  painful  to  you. 

PHOEBE.     I  must  do  my  duty.  A 

MISS  FANNY  (wistfully] .     If  we  could  remain — 

PHOEBE.     Would  it  be  seemly,  Miss  Fanny? 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  Come,  Fanny.  (To 
BLADES.)  Sir,  you  bring  your  punishment 
upon  yourself.  , 

(They    press    PHOEBE'S    hand,    and    go. 
Her  heart  returns  to  its  usual  abode.} 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  91 

BLADES  (bewildered) .     Are  you  angry  with  me, 
Miss  Livvy  ? 

PHOEBE.     Oh,  no. 

BLADES.  Miss  Livvy,.!  have  something  to  say 
to  you  of  supreme  importance  to  me.  AWith 
regard  to  my  complexion,  I  am  aware,  Miss 
Liwy,that  it  has  retained  a  too  youthful  bloom.* 
My  brother  officers  comment  on  it  with  a  certain 
lack  of  generosity.  (Anxiously .) ^  Might  I  in- 
quire, ma'am,  whether  you  regard  my  com- 
plexion as  a  subject  for  light  talk. 

PHOEBE.  No  indeed,  sir,  I  only  wish  I  had  it. 
BLADES  (who  has  had  no  intention  of  offering, 
but  is  suddenly  carried  off  his  feet  by  the  excellence 
of  the  opportunity,  which  is  no  doubt  responsible 
for  many  proposals).  Miss  Livvy,  ma'am,  you 
may  have  it. 

(She  has  a  great  and  humorous  longing 
that  she  could  turn  before  his  affrighted 
eyes  into  the  schoolmistress  she  really  is. 
She  would  endure  much  to  be  able  at  this 
moment  to  say,  '/  have  listened  to  you, 
ENSIGN  BLADES,  with  attention,  but  I  am 
really  MISS  PHOEBE,  and  I  must  now  re- 


QUALITY  STREET 


[ACT 


quest  you  to  fetch  me  the  implement.9 
Under  the  shock,  would  he  have  sur- 
rendered his  palm  for  punishment?  It 
can  never  be  known,  for  as  she  looks  at 
him  longingly,  LIEUTENANT  SPICER  enters, 
and  he  mistakes  the  meaning  of  that  longing 
look.} 

SPICER.  'Tis  my  dance,  ma'am — 'tis  not 
Ensign  Blades'. 

BLADES.  Leave  us,  sir.  We  have  matter  of 
moment  to  discuss. 

SPICER  (fearing  the  worst) .  His  affection,  Miss 
Livvy,  is  not  so  deep  as  mine.  He  is  a  lighi^and 
shallow  nature. 

PHOEBE.  Pooh !  You  are  both  light  and 
shallow  natures. 

BLADES.  Both,  ma'am?  (But  he  is  not  sure 
that  he  has  not  had  a  miraculous  escape.) 

PHOEBE  (severely) .  'Tis  such  as  you,  with  your 
foolish  flirting  ways,  that  confuse  the  minds  of 
women  and  make  us  try  to  be  as  silly  as  your- 
selves. 

SPICER  (crushed).     Ma'am. 

PHOEBE.     I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you.     (She 


m.]  QUALITY  STREET  93 

takes  a  hand  of  each  and  tries  to  advise  them  as  if 
her  curls  were  once  more  hidden  under  a  cap.} 
You  are  so  like  little  boys  in  a  school.  Do  be 
good.  Sit  here  beside  me.  I  know  you  are 
very  brave 

BLADES.     Ha ! 

PHOEBE.  And  when  you  come  back  from  the 
wars  it  must  be  so  delightful  to  you  to  flirt  with 
the  ladies  again. 

SPICER.     Oh,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.  As  soon  as  you  see  a  lady  with  a 
pretty  nose  you  cannot  help  saying  that  you 
adore  her. 

BLADES  (in  an  ecstasy}.     Nay,  I  swear. 

PHOEBE.  And  you  offer  to  her,  not  from 
love,  but  because  you  are  so  deficient  in 
conversation. 

SPICER.     Charming,  Miss  Livvy. 

PHOEBE  (with  sudden  irritation).  Oh,  sir,  go 
away ;  go  away,  both  of  you,  and  read  improving 
books. 

(They  are  cast  down.  She  has  not  been 
quite  fair  to  these  gallants,  for  it  is  not 
really  of  them  she  has  grown  weary  so  much 


94  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


as  of  the  lady  they  temporarily  adore.  If 
MISS  PHOEBE  were  to  analyse  her  feelings 
she  would  find  that  her  remark  is  addressed 
to  LIWY,  and  that  it  means,  'I  have  en- 
joyed for  a  little  pretending  to  be  you,  but  I 
am  not  you  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  you. 
Your  glitter  and  the  airs  of  you  and 
the  racket  of  you  tire  me,  I  want  to  be  done 
with  you,  and  to  be  back  in  quiet  Quality 
Street,  of  which  I  am  a  part;  it  is  really 
pleasant  to  me  to  know  that  I  shall  wake  up 
to-morrow  slightly  middle-aged'  With  the 
entrance  of  CAPTAIN  BROWN,  however,  she 
is  at  once  a  frivol  again.  He  frowns  at 
sight  of  her  cavaliers.} 

VALENTINE.  Gentlemen,  I  instructed  this 
lady  to  rest,  and  I  am  surprised  to  find  you  in 
attendance.  A  Miss  Livvy,  you  must  be  weary 
of  their  fatuities,  and  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to 
order  your  chaise. 

PHOEBE.     It  is  indeed  a  liberty, 

BLADES.     An  outrage. 

PHOEBE.     I  prefer  to  remain. 

VALENTINE.     Nay. 


m.]  QUALITY  STREET  95 

PHOEBE.  I  promised  this  dance  to  Ensign 
Blades. 

SPICER.     To  me,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE.  And  the  following  one  to  Lieutenant 
Spicer.  Mr.  Blades,  your  arm. 

VALENTINE.     I  forbid  any  further  dancing. 

PHOEBE.     Forbid.     La ! 

BLADES.     Sir,  by  what  right 

VALENTINE.  By  a  right  which  I  hope  to  make 
clear  to  Miss  Liwy  as  soon  as  you  gentlemen 
have  retired. 

(PHOEBE  sees  that  the  declaration  is  coming. 
She  steels  herself.) 

PHOEBE.  I  am  curious  to  know  what  Captain 
Brown  can  have  to  say  to  me.  In  a  few  minutes, 
Mr.  Blades,  Lieutenant  Spicer,  I  shall  be  at  your 
service. 

VALENTINE.      I  trust  not. 

PHOEBE.     I  give  them  my  word. 

(The  young  gentlemen  retire,  treading  air 
once  more.  BROWN  surveys  her  rather 
grimly.} 

VALENTINE.  You  are  an  amazing  pretty  girl, 
ma'am,  but  you  are  a  shocking  flirt. 


96  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.     La ! 

VALENTINE.  It  has  somewhat  diverted  me 
to  watch,  them  go  down  before  you.  But  I 
know  you  have  a  kind  heart,  and  that  if  there  be 
a  rapier  in  your  one  hand  there  is  a  handkerchief 
in  the  other  ready  to  staunch  their  wounds. 

PHOEBE.  I  have  not  observed  that  they  bled 
much. 

VALENTINE.  The  Blades  and  the  like,  no. 
But  one  may,  perhaps. 

PHOEBE  (obviously  the  reference  is  to  himself}. 
Perhaps  I  may  wish  to  see  him  bleed. 

VALENTINE  (grown  stern).     For  shame,  Miss 

Liwy.  ^  (Anger  rises  in  her,  but  she  wishes  him  to 

proceed.)     I  speak,  ma'am,  in  the  interests  of 

the  man  to  wThom  I  hope  to  see  you  affianced. 

(No,  she  does  not  wish  him  to  proceed.     SJie 

had  esteemed  him  for  so  long,  she  cannot 

have  him  debase  himself  before  her  now.) 

PHOEBE.  Shall  we — I  have  changed  my 
mind,  I  consent  to  go  home.  Please  to  say 
nothing. 

VALENTINE.      Nay 

PHOEBE.     I  beg  you. 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  97 

VALENTINE.     No.     We  must  have  it  out. 

PHOEBE.  Then  if  you  must  go  on,  do  so.  But 
remember  I  begged  you  to  desist.  Who  is  this 
happy  man? 

(His  next  words  are  a  great  shock  to  her.) 

VALENTINE.  As  to  who  he  is,  ma'am,  of 
course  I  have  no  notion.A  (Nor,  I  am  sure,  have 
you,  else  you  would  be  more  guarded  in  your 
conduct. )  But  some  day,  Miss  Liwy,  the  right 
man  will  come.  Not  to  be  able  to  tell  him  all, 
would  it  not  be  hard?  ^And  how  £ould  you 

acquaint  him  with  this  poor  sport?  /  His  face 

j 

would  change,  ma'am,  as  you  told  him  of  it,  and 
yours  would  be  a  false  face  until  it  was  told. 
This  is  what  I  have  been  so  desirous  to  say  to 
you — by  the  right  of  a  friend. 

PHOEBE  (in  a  low  voice  but  bravely).     I  see. 

VALENTINE  (afraid  that  he  has  hurt  her) .  It  has 
been  hard  to  say  and  I  have  done  it  bunglingly. 
Ah,  but  believe  me,  Miss  Liwy,  it  is  not  the 
flaunting  flower  men  love;  it  is  the  modest 
violet. 

PHOEBE.  The  modest  violet!  You  dare  to 
say  that. 


98  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

VALENTINE.  Yes,  indeed,  and  when  you  are 
acquaint  with  what  love  really  is 

PHOEBE.    Love !    What  do  you  know  of  love  ? 

VALENTINE  (a  little  complacently).  Why, 
ma'am,  I  know  all  about  it.  I  am  in  love,  Miss 
Liwy. 

PHOEBE  (with  a  disdainful  inclination  of  the 
head).  I  wish  you  happy. 

VALENTINE.  With  a  lady  who  was  once  very 
like  you,  ma'am. 

(At  first  PHOEBE  does  not  understand, 
then  a  suspicion  of  his  meaning  comes 
to  her.) 

PHOEBE.     Not — not — oh  no. 

VALENTINE.  I  had  not  meant  to  speak  of  it, 
but  why  should  not  I  ?  It  will  be  a  fine  lesson 
to  you,  Miss  Livvy.  Ma'am,  it  is  your  Aunt 
Phoebe  whom  I  love. 

PHOEBE  (rigid).     You  do  not  mean  that. 

VALENTINE.     Most  ardently. 

PHOEBE.  It  is  not  true;  how  dare  you  make 
sport  of  her. 

VALENTINE.  Is  it  sport  to  wish  she  may  be 
my  wife? 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  99 

PHOEBE.     Your  wife ! 

VALENTINE.     If  I  could  win  her. 

PHOEBE  (bewildered).  May  I  solicit,  sir,  for 
how  long  you  have  been  attached  to  Miss 
Phoebe? 

VALENTINE.     For  nine  years,  I  think. 

PHOEBE.     You  think ! 

VALENTINE.  ^  I  want  to  be  honest.  Never  in 
all  that  time  had  I  thought  myself  in  love.  (Your 
aunts  were  my  dear  friends,  and  while  I  was  at 
the  wars  we  sometimes  wrote  to  each  other,  but 
they  were  only  friendly  letters.  I  presume  the 
affection  was  too  placid  to  be  love. 

PHOEBE.  I  think  that  would  be  Aunt  Phoebe's 
opinion,  j 

VALENTINE.  A  Yet  I  remember,  before  we  went 
into  action  for  the  first  time — I  suppose  the  fear 
of  death  was  upon  me — some  of  them  were 
making  their  wills-f-I  have  no  near  relative-n-I 
left  everything  to  these  two  ladies. 

PHOEBE  (softly} .     Did  you  ? 

(What  is  it  that  MISS  PHOEBE  begins  to  see 
as  she  sits  there  so  quietly,  with  her  hands 
pressed  together  as  if  upon  some  treasure? 


100  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

It  is  PHOEBE  of  the  ringlets  with  the  stain 
taken  out  of  her.} 

VALENTINE.  And  when  I  returned  a  week 
ago  and  saw  Miss  Phoebe,  grown  so  tired-looking 
and  so  poor— 

PHOEBE.  The  shock  made  you  feel  old,  I 
know. 

VALENTINE.  No,  Miss  Liwy,  but  it  filled  me 
with  a  sudden  passionate  regret  that  I  had  not 
gone  down  in  that  ^Irst  engagement.  They 
would  have  beer  very  comfortably  left. 

PHOEBE.     Oh,  sir ! 

VALENTINE.     I  am  not  calling  it  love. 

PHOEBE.  It  was  sweet  and  kind,  but  it  was 
not  love. 

VALENTINE.      It  is  love  HOW. 

PHOEBE.  (No,  it  is  only  pity. 

VALENTINE.      It  is  loVC.y 

PHOEBE  (she  smiles  tremulously).  You  really 
mean  Phoebe — tired,  unattractive  Phoebe,  that 
woman  whose  girlhood  is  gone.  Nay,  im- 
possible. 

VALENTINE  (stoutly] .  Phoebe  of  the  fascinat- 
ing playful  ways,  whose  ringlets  were  once  as 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  101 

pretty  as  yours,  ma'am.  .,  I  have  visited  her  in 
her  home  several  times  this  week — you  were 
always  out — I  thank  you  for  that !  I  was  alone 
with  her,  and  with  fragrant  memories  of  her. 

PHOEBE.  Memories  !  Yes,  that  is  the  Phoebe 
you  love,  the  bright  girl  of  the  past — not  the 
schoolmistress  in  her  old-maid's  cap. 

VALENTINE.  There  you  wrong  me,  for  I  have 
discovered  for  myself  that  the  schoolmistress  in 
her  old-maid's  cap  is  the  noblest  Miss  Phoebe  of 
them  all.  (//  only  he  would  go  away,  and  let  MISS 
PHOEBE  cry.}  A  When  I  enlisted,  I  remember  I 
compared  her  to  a  garden.  I  have  often  thought 
of  that. 

PHOEBE.     'Tis  an  old  garden  now. 

VALENTINE.  The  paths,  ma'am,  are  better 
shaded. 

PHOEBE.  The  flowers  have  grown  old- 
fashioned. 

VALENTINE.  They  smell  the  sweeter.  Miss 
Livvy,  do  you  think  there  is  any  hope  for  me  ? 

PHOEBE.  There  was  a  man  whom  Miss  Phoebe 
loved — long  ago.  He  did  not  love  her. 

VALENTINE.     Now  here  was  a  fool ! 


102  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.     He  kissed  her  once. 

VALENTINE.  If  Miss  Phoebe  suffered  him  to 
do  that  she  thought  he  loved  her. 

PHOEBE.  Yes,  yes.  (She  has  to  ask  him  the 
ten  years  old  question.)  Do  you  opinion  that 
this  makes  her  action  in  allowing  it  less  repre- 
hensible ? .  It  has  been  such  a  pain  to  her  ever 
since. 

VALENTINE.  How  like  Miss  Phoebe! 
(Sternly.)  But  that  man  was  a  knave. 

PHOEBE.  No,  he  was  a  good  man — only  a 
little — inconsiderate.  She  knows  now  that  he 
has  even  forgotten  that  he  did  it.  ^1  suppose 
men  are  like  that  ? 

VALENTINE.  No,  Miss  Livvy,  men  are  not 
like  that.  I  am  a  very  average  man,  but  I 
thank  God  I  am  not  like  that. 

PHOEBE.     It  was  you. 

VALENTINE  (after  a  pause).  ^  Did  Miss  Phoebe 
say  that? 

PHOEBE.     Yes. 

VALENTINE.     Then  it  is  true. 
(He  is  very  grave  and  quiet.) 

PHOEBE.     It  was  raining  and  her  face  was 


in.j  QUALITY  STREET  103 

wet.  You  said  you  did  it  because  her  face 
was  wet. 

VALENTINE.     I  had  quite  forgotten. 

PHOEBE.  But  she  remembers,  and  how  often 
do  you  think  the  shameful  memory  has  made  her 
face  wet  since?  The  face  you  love,  Captain 
Brown,  you  were  the  first  to  give  it  pain.  (The 
tired  eyes — how  much  less  tired  they  might  be 
if  they  had  never  known  you.  You  who  are 
torturing  me  with  eve^ry  word,  what  have  you 
done  to  Miss  Phoebe ?J  You  who  think  you  can 
bring  back  the  bloom  to  that  faded  garden, v^nd 
all  the  pretty  airs  and  graces  that  fluttered 
round  it  once  like  little  birds  before  the  nest 

is  torn  down^)-bring  them  back  to  her  if  you  can, 
J  .*£ 

sir;  it  was  you  who  took  them  away. 

.VALENTINE.  I  vow  I  shall  do  my  best  to  bring 
them  back.  (MISS  PHOEBE  shakes  her  head.) 
Miss  Livvy,  with  your  help 

PHOEBE.  My  help !  I  have  not  helped.  I 
tried  to  spoil  it  all. 

VALENTINE  (smiling) .  To  spoil  it?  You 
mean  that  you  sought  to  flirt  even  with  me.  Ah, 
I  knew  you  did.  But  that  is  nothing. 


104  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.  Oh,  sir,  if  you  could  overlook 
it. 

VALENTINE.      I  do. 

PHOEBE.     And  forget  these  hateful  balls. 

VALENTINE.  Hateful!  Nay,  I  shall  never 
call  them  that.  They  have  done  me  too  great  a 
service.  It  was  at  the  balls  that  I  fell  in  love 
with  Miss  Phoebe. 

PHOEBE.     What  can  you  mean  ? 

VALENTINE.  She  who  was  never  at  a  ball ! 
(Checking  himself  humorously.)  <\But  I  must  not 
tell  you,  it  might  hurt  you. 

PHOEBE.     Tell  me. 

VALENTINE  (gaily).  Then  on  your  own  head 
be  the  blame.  It  is  you  who  have  made  me  love 
her,  Miss  Liwy. 

PHOEBE.     Sir  ? 

VALENTINE.  Yes,  it  is  odd,  and  yet  very 
simple.  You  who  so  resembled  her  as  she  was  ! 
for  an  hour,  ma'am,  you  bewitched  me;  yes,  I 
confess  it,  but  'twas  only  for  an  hour.  1  How 
like,  I  cried  at  first,  but  soon  it  was,  how  unlike. 
There  was  almost  nothing  she  would  have  said 
that  you  said;  you  did  so  much  that  she  would 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  105 

have  scorned  to  doJ *But  I  must  not  say  these 
things  to  you ! 

PHOEBE.     I  ask  it  of  you,  Captain  Brown. 

VALENTINE.  Well !  Miss  Phoebe's  'lady- 
likeness,'  on  which  she  set  such  store  that  I  used 
to  make  merry  of  the  word — I  gradually  per- 
ceived that  it  is  a  woman's  most  beautiful 
garment,  and  the  casket  which  contains  all  the 
adorable  qualities  that  go  to  the  making  of  a 
perfect  female.  When  Miss  Liwy  rolled  her 
eyes — ah ! 

(He  stops  apologetically.') 

PHOEBE.     Proceed,  sir. 

VALENTINE.  It  but  made  me  the  more  com- 
placent that  never  in  her  life  had  Miss  Phoebe 
been  guilty  of  the  slightest  deviation  from  the 
strictest  propriety.  (She  shudders.}  (  I  was 
always  conceiving  her  in  your  place.  Oh,  it  was 
monstrous  unfair  to  you.  I  stood  looking  at 
you,  Miss  Liwy,  and  seeing  in  my  mind  her  and 
the  pretty  things  she  did,  and  you  did  not  do; 
why,  ma'am,  that  is  how  I  fell  in  love  with  Miss 
Phoebe  at  the  balls. 

PHOEBE.     I  thank  you.  J 


106  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

VALENTINE.     Ma'am,  tell  me,  do  you  think 
there  is  any  hope  for  me  ? 

PHOEBE.     Hope ! 

VALENTINE.    ...  I    shall    go    to    her.       ''Miss 
Phoebe,'  I  will  say — oh,  ma'am,  so  reverently— 
'Miss  Phoebe,  my  beautiful,  most  estimable  of 
women,  let  me  take  care  of  you  for  ever  more.' 
(MISS  PHOEBE  presses  the  words  to  Jier 
heart  and  then  drops  them.} 

PHOEBE.     Beautiful.     La,  Aunt  Phoebe ! 

VALENTINE.  Ah,  ma'am,  you  may  laugh  at  a 
rough  soldier  so  much  enamoured,  but  'tis  true./., 
*  Marry  me,  Miss  Phoebe,'  I  will  say,  'and  I  will 
take  you  back  through  those  years  of  hardships 
that  have  made  your  sweet  eyes  too  patient. 
Instead  of  growing  older  you  shall  grow  younger. 
We  will  travel  back  together  (to  pick  up  the 
many  little  joys  and  pleasures  you  had  to 
pass  by  when  you  trod  that  thorny  path 
alone.' 

PHOEBE.     Can't  be — can't  be. 

VALENTINE.     Nay,  Miss  Phoebe  has  loved  me. 
'Tis  you  have  said  it. 

PHOEBE.     I  did  not  mean  to  tell  you. 


in.]  QUALITY  STREET  107 

VALENTINE.     She  will  be  my  wife  yet. 

PHOEBE.     Never. 

VALENTINE.     You   are   severe,   Miss   Livvy.  . 
But  it  is  because  you  are  partial  to  her,  and  1 
am  happy  of  that. 

PHOEBE  (in  growing  horror  of  herself).  I 
partial  to  her !  I  am  laughing  at  both  of  you. 
Miss  Phoebe.  La,  that  old  thing. 

VALENTINE  (sternly}.     Silence! 

PHOEBE.     I  hate  her  and  despise  her.     If  you 

knew  what  she  is 

(He  stops  her  with  a  gesture.) 

VALENTINE.     I  know  what  you  are. 

PHOEBE.  That  paragon  who  has  never  been 
guilty  of  the  slightest  deviation  from  the  strictest 
propriety. 

VALENTINE.       Never. 

PHOEBE.     That  garden 

VALENTINE.     Miss  Livvy,  for  shame. 

PHOEBE.  Your  garden  has  been  destroyed, 
sir;  the  weeds  have  entered  it,  and  all  the 
flowers  are  choked. 

VALENTINE.  You  false  woman,  what  do  you 
mean? 


108  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


PHOEBE.     I  will  tell  you.  ,  j$ut  his  confidence 
awes  her.)     What  faith  you  have  in  her. 
VALENTINE.     As  in  my  God.     Speak. 
PHOEBE.     I  cannot  tell  you. 
VALENTINE.     No,  you  cannot. 
PHOEBE.     It  is  too  horrible. 
VALENTINE.     You  are  too  horrible.     Is  not 
that  it? 

PHOEBE.     Yes,  that  is  it. 

(MISS  SUSAN  has  entered  and  caught  the 
last  words.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (shrinking  as  from  a  coming  blow). 
What  is  too  horrible? 

VALENTINE.  Ma'am,  I  leave  the  telling  of  it 
to  her,  if  she  dare.  ^  And  I  devoutly  hope  those 
are  the  last  words  I  shall  ever  address  to  this 
lady. 

(He  bows  and  goes  out  in  dudgeon.     MISS 
SUSAN  believes  all  is  discovered  and  that 
MISS  PHOEBE  is  for  ever  shamed.) 
MISS  SUSAN  (taking  PHOEBE  in  her  arms).     My 
love,  my  dear,  what  terrible  thing  has  he  said  to 
you? 

PHOEBE  (forgetting  everything  but  that  she  is 


m.]  QUALITY  STREET  109 

loved}.  Not  terrible — glorious!  Susan,  'tis 
Phoebe  he  loves,  'tis  me,  not  Liwy  !  He  loves 
me,  he  loves  me  !  Me— Phoebe ! 

(MISS  SUSAN'S  bosom  swells.     It  is  her 
great  hour  as  much  as  PHOEBE'S.) 


End  of  Act  III. 


^vW^ 


ACT   IV 


ACT    IV 
THE  BLUE  AND  WHITE  ROOM 

//  we  could  shut  our  eyes  to  the  two  sisters  sitting  here 
in  woe,  this  would  be,  to  the  male  eye  at  least,  the 
identical  blue  and  white  room  of  ten  years  ago  ;  the 
same  sun  shining  into  it  and  playing  familiarly  with 
Miss  Susan's  treasures.  But  the  ladies  are  changed. 
It  is  not  merely  that  Miss  Phoebe  has  again  donned  her 
schoolmistress's  gown  and  hidden  her  curls  under  the 
cap.  To  see  her  thus  once  more,  her  real  self,  after  the 
escapade  of  the  ball,  is  not  unpleasant,  and  the  cap  and 
gown  do  not  ill  beeome  the  quiet  room.  But  she  now 
turns  guiltily  from  the  sun  that  used  to  be  her  intimate, 
her  face  is  drawn,  her  form  condensed  into  the  smallest 
space,  and  her  hands  lie  trembling  in  her  lap.  It  is 
disquieting  to  note  that  any  life  there  is  in  the  room 
comes  not  from  her  but  from  Miss  Susan.  If  the 
house  were  to  go  on  fire  now  it  would  be  she  who  would 
have  to  carry  out  Miss  Phoebe. 

Whatever  of  import  has  happened  since  the  ball, 
Patty  knows  it,  and  is  enjoying  it.     We  see  this  as  she 
113 


QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 


ushers  in  Miss  Willoughby.  Note  also,  with  concern, 
that  at  mention  of  the  visitor's  name  the  eyes  of  the 
sisters  turn  affrightedly,  not  to  the  door  by  which 
their  old  friend  enters,  but  to  the  closed  door  of  the 
spare  bed-chamber.  Patty  also  gives  it  a  meaning 
glance  ;  then  the  three  look  at  each  other,  and  two  oj 
them  blanch. 


. 


MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (the  fourth  to  look  at  the 
door).  I  am  just  run  across,  Susan,  to  inquire 
how  Miss  Livvy  does  now. 

MISS  SUSAN.     She  is  still  very  poorly,  Mary. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  I  am  so  unhappy  of  that. 
I  conceive  it  to  be  a  nervous  disorder  ? 

MISS  SUSAN  (almost  too  glibly).  Accompanied 
by  trembling,  flutterings,  and  spasms. 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  The  excitements  of  the 
ball.  You  have  summoned  the  apothecary  at 
last,  I  trust,  Phoebe? 

(MISS  PHOEBE,  once  so  ready  of  defence, 
can  say  nothing.) 

MISS  SUSAN  (to  the  rescue).  It  is  Livvy  's  own 
wish  that  he  should  not  be  consulted. 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  115 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (looking  longingly  at  the 
door).  May  I  go  in  to  see  her ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  I  fear  not,  Mary.  She  is  almost 
asleep,  and  it  is  best  not  to  disturb  her.  (Peep- 
ing into  the  bedroom.}  Lie  quite  still,  Liwy,  my 
love,  quite  still. 

(Somehow   this   makes    PATTY    smile    so 
broadly  that  she  finds  it  advisable  to  retire. 
MISS  WILLOUGHBY  sighs,  and  produces  a 
small  bowl  from  the  folds  of  her  cloak.} 
MISS  WILLOUGHBY.     This  is  a  little  arrowroot, 
of  which  I  hope  Miss  Livvy  will  be  so  obliging  as 
to  partake. 

MISS  SUSAN  (taking  the  bowl).  I  thank  you, 
Mary. 

PHOEBE  (ashamed).     Susan,  we  ought  not 

MISS  SUSAN  (shameless).  I  will  take  it  to  her 
while  it  is  still  warm. 

(She  goes  into  the  bedroom.  MISS  WIL- 
LOUGHBY gazes  at  MISS  PHOEBE,  who 
certainly  shrinks.  It  has  not  escaped  the 
notice  of  the  visitor  that  MISS  PHOEBE  has 
become  the  more  timid  of  the  sisters,  and 
she  has  evolved  an  explanation.} 


116  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

.  v- 
MISS    WILLOUGHBY.     Phoebe,    has    Captain 

Brown  been  apprised  of  Miss  Liwy's  illness  ? 

PHOEBE  (uncomfortably).  I  think  not,  Miss 
Willoughby. 

MISS     WILLOUGHBY     (sOTTy   for    PHOEBE,     and 

speaking  very  kindly).  Is  this  right,  Phoebe? 
You  informed  Fanny  and  Henrietta  at  the  ball 
of  his  partiality  for  Liwy. .  My  dear,  it  is  hard 
for  you,  but  have  you  any  right  to  keep  them 
apart? 

PHOEBE  (discovering  only  now  what  are  the 
suspicions  of  her  friends).  Is  that  what  you 
think  I  am  doing,  Miss  Willoughby  ? 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY.  Such  a  mysterious  ill- 
ness. (Sweetly)  Long  ago,  Phoebe,  I  once 
caused  much  unhappiness  through  foolish 
jealousy.  That  is  why  I  venture  to  hope  that 
you  will  not  be  as  I  was,  my  dear. 

PHOEBE.     I  jealous  of  Liwy  ! 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (with  a  sigh).  I  thought 
as  little  of  the  lady  I  refer  to,  but  he  thought 
otherwise. 

PHOEBE.  Indeed,  Miss  Willoughby,  you 
wrong  me. 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  117 

(But  MISS  WILLOUGHBY  does  not  entirely 
believe  her,  and  there  is  a  pause,  so  long 
a  pause  that  unfortunately  MISS  SUSAN 
thinks  she  has  left  the  house.) 
MISS  SUSAN  (peeping  in).     Is  she  gone? 

MISS  WILLOUGHBY  (hurt).     No,  Susan,  but  I 

A 
am  going. 

MISS  SUSAN  (distressed).     Mary  ! 

(She follows  her  out,  but  MISS  WILLOUGHBY 
will  not  be  comforted,  and  there  is  a  coldness 
between  them  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  MISS 
SUSAN  is  not  so  abashed  as  she  ought  to 
be.  She  returns,  and  partakes  with  avidity 
of  the  arrowroot.) 

Miss  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  I  am  well  aware  that 
this  is  wrong  of  me,  but  Mary's  arrowroot  is  so 
delicious.  The  ladies'-fingers  and  petticoat-tails 
those  officers  sent  to  Liwy,  I  ate  them  also!  A 
(Once  on  a  time  this  would  have  amused  MISS 
PHOEBE,  but  her  sense  of  humour  has  gone.  She 
is  crying.)  Phoebe,  if  you  have  such  remorse 
you  will  weep  yourself  to  death. 

PHOEBE.     Oh,  sister,,  were  it  not  for  you,  how 
gladly  would  I  go  into  a  decline. 


118  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN  (after  she  has  soothed  PHOEBE  a 
little) .     My  dear,  what  is  to  be  done  about  her  ? 
i     We  cannot  have  her  supposed  to  be  here  for 
ever. 

PHOEBE.  We  had  to  pretend  that  she  was  ill 
to  keep  her  out  of  sight;  and  now  we  cannot  say 
she  has  gone  away,  for  the  Miss  Willoughby's 
windows  command  our  door,  and  they  are 
always  watching. 

MISS  SUSAN  (peeping  from  the  window) .  I  see 
Fanny  watching  now.  I  feel,  Phoebe,  as  if 
Livvy  really  existed. 

PHOEBE  (mournfully) .  We  shall  never  be  able 
to  esteem  ourselves  again. 

MISS  SUSAN  (who  has  in  her  the  makings  of  a 
desperate  criminal).  Phoebe,  why  not  marry 
him?  If  only  we  could  make  him  think  that 
Livvy  had  gone  home.  Then  he  need  never 
know. 

PHOEBE.     Susan,    you    pain   me.     She   who 
marries  without  telling  all — hers  must  ever  be  a 
false  face.     They  are  his  own  words. 
(PATTY  enters  importantly.) 

PATTY.     Captain  Brown. 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  119 

PHOEBE  (starting  up).  I  wrote  to  him,  begging 
him  not  to  come. 

MISS  SUSAN  (quickly).     Patty,  I  am  sorry  we 
are  out. 

(But  VALENTINE  has  entered  in  time  to 
hear  her  words.) 

VALENTINE  (not  unmindful  that  this  is  the  room 
in  which  he  is  esteemed  a  wit) .  I  regret  that  they 
are  out,  Patty,  Jbut  I  will  await  their  return. 
(The  astonishing  man  sits  on  the  ottoman 
beside  MISS  SUSAN,  but  politely  ignores  her 
presenc 
Patty. 


presence.)  »xlt  is  not  my  wish  to  detain  you, 


(PATTY  goes  reluctantly,  and  the  sisters 
think  how  like  him,  and  how  delightful  it 
would  be  if  they  were  still  the  patterns  of 
propriety  he  considers  them.) 

PHOEBE  (bravely).     Captain  Brown. 

VALENTINE  (rising).  You,  Miss  Phoebe.  I 
hear  Miss  Liwy  is  indisposed  ? 

PHOEBE.     She  is — very  poorly. 

VALENTINE.  But  it  is  not  that  unpleasant 
girl  I  have  come  to  see,  it  is  you. 

MISS  SUSAN  (meekly).     How  do  you  do? 


120  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

VALENTINE  (ignoring  her).  And  I  am  happy, 
Miss  Phoebe,  to  find  you  alone. 

MISS  SUSAN  (appealingly) .  How  do  you  do, 
sir? 

PHOEBE.  You  know  quite  well,  sir,  that 
Susan  is  here. 

VALENTINE.  Nay,  ma'am,  excuse  me.  I  heard 
Miss  Susan  say  she  was  gone  out.  Miss  Susan  is 
incapable  of  prevarication. 

MISS  SUSAN  (rising — helpless}.  What  am  I  to 
do? 

PHOEBE.  Don't  go,  Susan — 'tis  what  he 
wants. 

VALENTINE.  I  have  her  word  that  she  is  not 
present. 

MISS  SUSAN.     Oh  dear. 

VALENTINE.  My  faith  in  Miss  Susan  is 
absolute.  (At  this  she  retires  into  the  bedroom, 
and  immediately  his  manner  changes.  He  takes 
MISS  PHOEBE'S  hands  into  his  own  kind  ones.) 
You  coward,  Miss  Phoebe,  to  be  afraid  of 
Valentine  Brown. 

PHOEBE.  I  wrote  and  begged  you  not  to 
come. 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  121 

VALENTINE.  You  implied  as  a  lover,  Miss 
Phoebe,  but  surely  always  as  a  friend. 

PHOEBE.     Oh  yes,  yes. 

VALENTINE.  You  told  Miss  Liwy  that  you 
loved  me  once.  How  carefully  you  hid  it  from 
me! 

PHOEBE  (more  firmly).  A  woman  must 
never  tell.  You  went  away  to  the  great 
battles.  I  was  left  to  fight  in  a  little 
one.  Women  have  a  flag  to  fly,  Mr.  Brown, 
as  well  as  men,  and  old  maids  have  a  flag 
as  well  as  women.  I  tried  to  keep  mine 
flying. 

VALENTINE.  But  you  ceased  to  care  for 
me.  (Tenderly.)  I  dare  ask  your  love  no 
more,  but  I  still  ask  you  to  put  yourself  into 
my  keeping.  Miss  Phoebe,  let  me  take  care 
of  you. 

PHOEBE.     It  cannot  be. 

VALENTINE.  This  weary  teaching  !  Let  me 
close  your  school. 

PHOEBE.     Please,  sir. 

VALENTINE.  If  not  for  your  own  sake,  I  ask 
you,  Miss  Phoebe,  to  do  it  for  mine.  In  memory 


122  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

of  the  thoughtless  recruit  who  went  off  laugh- 
ing to  the  wars.  A/They  say  ladies  cannot 
quite  forget  the  man  who  has  used  them 
ill;  Miss  Phoebe,  do  it  for  me  because  I  used 
you  ill. 

PHOEBE.     I  beg  you — no  more. 

VALENTINE  (manfully}.  There,  it  is  all  ended. 
Miss  Phoebe,  here  is  my  hand  on  it. 

PHOEBE.     What  will  you  do  now  ? 

VALENTINE.  I  also  must  work.  I  will  become 
a  physician  again,  with  some  drab  old  house- 
keeper to  neglect  me  and  the  house.  Do  you 
foresee  the  cobwebs  gathering  and  gathering, 
Miss  Phoebe  ? 

PHOEBE.     Oh,  sir ! 

VALENTINE.  You  shall  yet  see  me  in  Quality 
Street,  wearing  my  stock  all  awry. 

PHOEBE.     Oh,  oh ! 

VALENTINE.     And  with  snuff  upon  my  sleeve. 

PHOEBE.     Sir,  sir ! 

VALENTINE.  No  skulker,  ma'am,  I  hope,  but 
gradually  turning  into  a  grumpy,  crusty,  bottle- 
nosed  old  bachelor. 

PHOEBE.    Oh,  Mr.  Brown ! 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  123 

VALENTINE.  And  all  because  you  will  not 
walk  across  the  street  with  me. 

PHOEBE.  Indeed,  sir,  you  must  marry-y^and 
I  hope  it  may  be  some  one  who  is  really  like  a 
garden. 

VALENTINE.  I  know  but  one.  xThat  reminds 
me,  Miss  Phoebe,  of  something  I  had  forgot. 
(lie  produces  a  paper  from  his  pocket.}  'Tis  a 
trifle  I  have  wrote  about  you.  But  I  fear  to 
trouble  you. 

(PHOEBE'S  hands  go  out  longingly  for  it.) 

PHOEBE  (reading).  *  Lines  to  a  Certain  Lady, 
who  is  Modestly  unaware  of  her  Resemblance  to 
a  Garden.  Wrote  by  her  servant,  V.  B.' 

(The  beauty  of  this  makes  her  falter.     She 
looks  up.) 

VALENTINE  (with  a  poet's  pride).  There  is 
more  of  it,  ma'am. 

PHOEBE  (reading) 

The  lilies  are  her  pretty  thoughts, 
Her  shoulders  are  the  may, 

Her  smiles  are  all  forget-me-nots, 
The  path  's  her  gracious  way, 


124  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

The  roses  that  do  line  it  are 

Her  fancies  walking  round, 
'Tis  sweetly  smelling  lavender 

In  which  my  lady's  gowned.       ,, 

/\ 

(MISS  PHOEBE  has  thought  herself  strong, 
but  site  is  not  able  to  read  such  exquisite 
lines  without  betraying  herself  to  a  lover's 
gaze.) 

VALENTINE  (excitedly).     Miss  Phoebe,  when 
did  you  cease  to  care  for  me  ? 

PHOEBE  (retreating  from  him  but  clinging  to  her 
poem).     You  promised  not  to  ask. 

VALENTINE.     I  know  not  why  you  should, 
Miss  Phoebe,  but  I  believe  you  love  me  still ! 

(MISS  PHOEBE  has  the  terrified  appearance 
of  a  detected  felon.) 
(MISS  SUSAN  returns.) 
MISS  SUSAN.     You  are  talking  so  loudly. 
VALENTINE.     Miss  Susan,  does  she  care  for  me 
still? 

MISS  SUSAN  (forgetting  her  pride  of  sex).     Oh, 
sir,  how  could  she  help  it. 

VALENTINE.     Then  by  Gad,  Miss  Phoebe,  you 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  125 

shall  marry  me  though  I  have  to  carry  you  in 
my  arms  to  the  church. 

PHOEBE.     Sir,  how  can  you  ! 

(But  MISS  SUSAN  gives  her  a  look  which 
means  that  it  must  be  done  if  only  to  avoid 
such  a  scandal.  It  is  at  this  inopportune 
moment  that  MISS  HENRIETTA  and  MISS 
FANNY  are  announced.) 

MISS  HENRIETTA.     I  think  Miss  Willoughby 
has  already  popped  in. 

PHOEBE  (with  a  little  spirit).     Yes,  indeed. 
MISS  SUSAN  (a  mistress  of  sarcasm).     How  is 
Mary,  Fanny?     She  has  not  been  to  see  us  for 
several  minutes. 

MISS  FANNY  (somewhat  daunted).     Mary  is  so 
partial  to  you,  Susan. 

VALENTINE.     Your  servant,  Miss  Henrietta, 
Miss  Fanny. 

MISS  FANNY.     How  do  you  do,  sir  ? 
MISS  HENRIETTA  (wistfully) .     And  how  do  you 
find  Miss  Liwy,  sir? 

VALENTINE.    I    have    not    seen    her,    Miss 
Henrietta. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.     Indeed ! 


126  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT- 

MISS  FANNY.     Not  even  you  ? 

VALENTINE.     You  seem  surprised  ? 

MISS  FANNY.  Nay,  sir,  you  must  not  say  so: 
but  really,  Phoebe ! 

PHOEBE.    Fanny,  you  presume ! 

VALENTINE  (puzzled).  If  one  of  you  ladies 
would  deign  to  enlighten  me.  To  begin  with, 
what  is  Miss  Liwy's  malady  ? 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  He  does  not  know?  Oh, 
Phoebe. 

VALENTINE.  Ladies,  have  pity  on  a  dull  man, 
and  explain. 

MISS  FANNY  (timidly} .  Please  not  to  ask  us  to 
explain.  I  fear  we  have  already  said  more  than 
was  proper.  Phoebe,  forgive. 

(To  CAPTAIN  BROWN  this  but  adds  to  the 
mystery,  and  he  looks  to  PHOEBE  for 
enlightenment.) 

PHOEBE  (desperate).  I  understand,  sir,  there  is 
a  belief  that  I  keep  Livvy  in  confinement  because 
of  your  passion  for  her. 

VALENTINE.  My  passion  for  Miss  Liwy? 
Why,  Miss  Fanny,  I  cannot  abide  her — nor 
she  me.  (Looking  manfully  at  MISS  PHOEBE.) 


iv.]  QUALITY   STREET  127 

»   Furthermore,  I  am  proud  to  tell  you  that  this  is 
the  lady  whom  I  adore. 

MISS  FANNY.       Phoebe  ? 

VALENTINE.     Yes,  ma'am. 

(The  ladies  are  for  a  moment  bereft  of 
speech,  and  the  uplifted  PHOEBE  cannot 
refrain  from  a  movement  which,  if  com- 
pleted, would  be  a  curtsy.  Her  punish- 
ment fottows  promptly,} 

MISS  HENRIETTA  (from  her  heart}.  Phoebe,  I 
am  so  happy  'tis  you. 

MISS  FANNY.  Dear  Phoebe,  I  give  you  joy. 
And  you  also,  sir.  (MISS  PHOEBE  sends  her  sister 
a  glance  of  unutterable  woe,  and  escapes  from  the 
room.  It  is  most  Hi-bred  of  her.}  Miss  Susan,  I 
do  not  understand ! 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  Is  it  that  Miss  Liwy  is  an 
obstacle  ? 

MISS  SUSAN  (who  knows  that  there  is  no  hope  for 
her  but  in  flight} .  I  think  I  hear  Phoebe  calling 
me — a  sudden  indisposition.  Pray  excuse  me, 
Henrietta.  (She  goes.} 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  We  know  not,  sir,  whether 
to  offer  you  our  felicitations  ? 


128  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

VALENTINE  (cogitating) .  May  I  ask,  ma'am, 
what  you  mean  by  an  obstacle  ?  Is  there  some 
mystery  about  Miss  Liwy  ? 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  So  much  so,  sir,  that  we  at 
one  time  thought  she  and  Miss  Phoebe  were  the 
same  person. 

VALENTINE.      PshaW ! 

MISS  FANNY.  Why  will  they  admit  no 
physician  into  her  presence  ? 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  The  blinds  of  her  room  are 
kept  most  artfully  drawn. 

MISS  FANNY  (plaintively).  We  have  never 
seen  her,  sir.  Neither  Miss  Susan  nor  Miss 
Phoebe  will  present  her  to  us. 

VALENTINE  (impressed).     Indeed. 

(MISS    HENRIETTA    and    MISS    FANNY,    6U- 

couraged  by  his  sympathy,  draw  nearer  the 
door  of  the  interesting  bedchamber.  They 
falter.  Any  one  who  thinks,  however,  that 
they  would  so  far  forget  themselves  as  to  open 
the  door  and  peep  in,  has  no  understand- 
ing of  the  ladies  of  Quality  Street.  They 
are,  nevertheless,  not  perfect,  for  MISS 
HENRIETTA  knocks  on  the  door.) 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  129 

MISS  HENRIETTA.  How  do  you  find  yourself, 
dear  Miss  Livvy  ? 

(There  is  no  answer.  It  is  our  pride  to 
record  that  they  come  away  without  even 
touching  the  handle.  They  look  appealing 
at  CAPTAIN  BROWN,  whose  face  has  grown 
grave.} 

VALENTINE.    I  think,  ladies^  as  a  physician 

(He  walks  into  the  bedroom.  They  feel 
an  ignoble  drawing  to  follow  him,  but  do  not 
yield  to  it.  When  he  returns  his  face  is 
inscrutable.} 

Miss  HENRIETTA.     Is  she  very  poorly,  sir  ? 

VALENTINE.      Ha. 

MISS  FANNY.  We  did  not  hear  you  address 
her. 

VALENTINE.     She  is  not  awake,  ma'am. 

MISS  HENRIETTA.     It  is  provoking. 

MISS  FANNY  (sternly  just}.  They  informed 
Mary  that  she  was  nigh  asleep. 

VALENTINE.  It  is  not  a  serious  illness  I  think, 
ma'am.  With  the  permission  of  Miss  Phoebe 
and  Miss  Susan  I  will  make  myself  more  acquaint 
with  her  disorder  presently.  (He  is  desirous  to 


130  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

be  alone.)  ,  But  we  must  not  talk  lest  we  disturb 
her. 

MISS  FANNY.     You  suggest  our  retiring,  sir? 

VALENTINE.     Nay,  Miss  Fanny 

MISS  FANNY.     You  are  very  obliging;   but  I 

think,  Henrietta 

MISS  HENRIETTA  (rising).     Yes,  Fanny. 

(No  doubt  ih  y  are  the  more  ready  to 
depart  that  they  wish  to  inform  MISS 
WILLOUGHBY  at  once  of  these  strange 
doings.  As  they  go,  MISS  SUSAN  and 
MISS  PHOEBE  return,  and  the  adieux 
are  less  elaborate  than  usual.  Neither 
visitors  nor  hostesses  quite  know  what 
to  say.  MISS  SUSAN  is  merely  relieved 
to  see  them  leave,  but  MISS  PHOEBE  has 
read  something  in  their  manner  that  makes 
her  uneasy.) 

PHOEBE.  Why  have  they  departed  so 
hurriedly,  sir?  They — they  did  not  go  in  to 
see  Livvy  ? 

VALENTINE.      No. 

(She  reads  danger  in  his  face.) 
PHOEBE.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely  ? 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  131 

VALENTINE  (somewhat  stern}.  Miss  Phoebe,  I 
desire  to  see  Miss  Livvy. 

PHOEBE.     Impossible. 

VALENTINE.  Why  impossible  ?  They  tell  me 
strange  stories  about  no  one's  seeing  her.  Miss 
Phoebe,  I  will  not  leave  this  house  until  I  have 
seen  her. 

PHOEBE.  You  cannot.  «  (Bid  he  is  very  de- 
termined, and  she  is  afraid  of  him.}  Will  you 
excuse  me,  sir,  while  I  talk  with  Susan  behind 
the  door? 

(The  sisters  go  guiltily  into  the  bedroom, 
and  CAPTAIN  BROWN  after  some  hesitation 
rings  for  PATTY.) 

VALENTINE.  Patty,  come  here.  Why  is  this 
trick  being  played  upon  me  ? 

PATTY  (with  all  her  wits  about  her).  Trick, 
sir !  Who  would  dare  ? 

VALENTINE.  I  know,  Patty,  that  Miss  Phoebe 
has  been  Miss  Livvy  all  the  time. 

PATTY.     I  give  in  ! 

VALENTINE.     Why  has  she  done  this  ? 

PATTY  (beseechingly}.     Are  you  laughing,  sir? 

VALENTINE.     I  am  very  far  from  laughing. 


132  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PATTY  (turning  on  him}.  'Twas  you  that 
began  it,  all  by  not  knowing  her  in  the  white 
gown. 

VALENTINE.  Why  has  this  deception  been 
kept  up  so  long  ? 

PATTY.  Because  you  would  not  see  through 
it.  Oh,  the  wicked  denseness.  She  thought 
you  were  infatuate  with  Miss  Liwy  because  she 
was  young  and  silly. 

VALENTINE.     It  is  infamous. 

PATTY.  I  will  not  have  you  call  her  names. 
'Twas  all  playful  innocence  at  first,  and  now  she 
is  so  feared  of  you  she  is  weeping  her  soul  to 
death,  and  all  I  do  I  cannot  rouse  her.  ^  'I  ha' 
a  follower  in  the  kitchen,  ma'am,'  says  I,  to 
infuriate  her.  'Give  him  a  glass  of  cowslip 
wine,'  says  she,  like  a  gentle  lamb.  And  ill 
she  can  afford  it,  you  having  lost  their  money 
for  them. 

VALENTINE.  What  is  that  ?  On  the  contrary, 
all  the  money  they  have,  Patty,  they  owe  to  my 
having  invested  it  for  them. 

PATTY.     That  is  the  money  they  lost. 

VALENTINE.     You  are  sure  of  that  ? 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  133 

PATTY.     I  can  swear  to  it. 

VALENTINE.     Deceived  me  about  that  also.  - 

V  /* 

Good  God;  but  why? 

PATTY.  1  think  she  was  feared  you  would 
offer  to  her  out  of  pity.  She  said  something  to 
Miss  Susan  about  keeping  a  flag  flying.  What 
she  meant  I  know  not.  (But  he  knows,  and  he 
turns  away  his  face.}  Are  you  laughing,  sir  ? 

VALENTINE.  No,  Patty,  I  am  not  laughing. 
Why  do  they  not  say  Miss  Liwy  has  gonehome? 
It  would  save  them  a  world  of  trouble. 

PATTY.  The  Misses  Willoughby  and  Miss 
Henrietta — they  watch  the  house  all  day.  They 
would  say  she  cannot  be  gone,  for  we  did  not  see 
her  go. 

VALENTINE  (enlightened  at  last).     I  see ! 

PATTY.  And  Miss  Phoebe  and  Miss  Susan 
wring  their  hands,  for  they  are  feared  Miss 
Livvy  is  bedridden  here  for  all  time.  (Now  his 
sense  of  humour  asserts  itself) .  Thank  the  Lord, 
you  're  laughing ! 

(At  this  he  laughs  the  more,  and  it  is  a  gay 

CAPTAIN    BROWN    On    whom    MISS    SUSAN 

opens  the  bedroom  door.     This  desperate 


134  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

woman  is  too  full  of  plot  to  note  the  change 
in  him.) 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  am  happy  to  inform  you,  sir, 
that  Liwy  finds  herself  much  improved. 

VALENTINE  (bowing).     It  is  joy  to  me  to  hear 
it. 

MISS  SUSAN.     She  is  coming  in  to  see  you. 

PATTY  (aghast).    Oh,  ma'am ! 

VALENTINE  (frowning  on  PATTY).     I  shall  be 
happy  to  see  the  poor  invalid. 

PATTY.     Ma'am ! 

(But  MISS  SUSAN,  believing  that  so  far  aU 
is  well,  has  returned  to  the  bedchamber. 
CAPTAIN  BROWN  bestows  a  quizzical  glance 
upon  the  maid.) 

VALENTINE.     Go  away,  Patty.     Anon  I  may 
claim  a  service  of  you,  but  for  the  present,  go. 

PATTY.     But — but 

VALENTINE.     Retire,  woman. 

(She  has  to  go,  and  he  prepares  his  face  for 
the  reception  of  the  invalid.  PHOEBE 
comes  in  without  her  cap,  the  ringlets 
showing  again.  She  wears  a  dressing 
jacket  and  is  supported  by  MISS  SUSAN.) 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  135 

VALENTINE  (gravely).  Your  servant,  Miss 
Livvy. 

PHOEBE  (weakly).    How  do  you  do? 
VALENTINE.     Allow  me,  Miss  Susan. 

(He  takes  MISS  SUSAN'S  place;   but  after 
an  exquisite  moment  MISS  PHOEBE  breaks 
away  from,  him,  feeling  that  she  is  not 
worthy  of  such  bliss.} 
PHOEBE.     No,  no,  I — I  can  walk  alone — see. 

(She  reclines  upon  the  couch.} 
MISS    SUSAN.     How    do    you    think    she    is 
looking  ?    A 

(He   makes   a   professional   examination 
of  the  patient,  and  they  are  very  ashamed 
to  deceive  him,  but  not  so  ashamed  that  they 
must  confess.} 
What  do  you  think  ? 

VALENTINE  (solemnly}.  She  will  recover. 
May  I  say,  ma'am,  it  surprises  me  that  any  one 
should  see  much  resemblance  between  you  and 
your  Aunt  Phoebe.  Miss  Phoebe  is  decidedly 
shorter  and  more  thick-set. 

PHOEBE  (sitting  up}.     No,  I  am  not. 
VALENTINE.     I   said    Miss   Phoebe,    ma'am. 


136  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

(She  reclines.)  But  tell  me,  is  not  Miss  Phoebe  to 
join  us  ? 

PHOEBE.     She  hopes  you  will  excuse  her,  sir. 

MISS  SUSAN  (vaguely).  Taking  the  opportunity 
of  airing  the  room. 

VALENTINE.      Ah,  of  COUFSC. 

MISS  SUSAN  (opening  bedroom  door  and  calling 
mendaciously) .  Captain  Brown  will  excuse  you, 
Phoebe. 

VALENTINE.  Certainly,  Miss  Susan.  Well, 
ma'am,  I  think  I  could  cure  Miss  Liwy  if  she 
is  put  unreservedly  into  my  hands. 

MISS  SUSAN  (with  a  sigh).  I  am  sure  you  could. 

VALENTINE.  Then  you  are  my  patient,  Miss 
Liwy. 

PHOEBE  (nervously).  'Twas  but  a  passing 
indisposition,  I  am  almost  quite  recovered. 

VALENTINE.  Nay,  you  still  require  attention. 
Do  you  propose  making  a  long  stay  in  Quality 
Street,  ma'am? 

PHOEBE.     I — I — I  hope  not.     It — it  depends. 

MISS  SUSAN  (forgetting  herself).  Mary  is  the 
worst. 

VALENTINE.     I  ask  your  pardon  ? 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  137 

PHOEBE.     Aunt  Susan,  you  are  excited. 

VALENTINE.  But  you  are  quite  right,  Miss 
Liwy;  home  is  the  place  for  you. 

PHOEBE.     Would  that  I  could  go ! 

VALENTINE.     You  are  going. 

PHOEBE.     Yes — soon. 

VALENTINE.  Indeed,  I  have  a  delightful  sur- 
prise for  you,  Miss  Livvy,  you  are  going  to-day. 

PHOEBE.     To-day  ? 

VALENTINE.  Not  merely  to-day,  but  now. 
As  it  happens,  my  carriage  is  standing  idle  at 
your  door,  and  I  am  to  take  you  in  it  to  your 
home — some  twenty  miles  if  I  remember. 

PHOEBE.     You  are  to  take  me  ? 

VALENTINE.  Nay,  'tis  no  trouble  at  all,  and 
as  your  physician  my  mind  is  made  up.  f,  Some 
wraps  for  her,  Miss  Susan. 

MISS  SUSAN.     But — but 

PHOEBE  (in  a  panic).     Sir,  I  decline  to  go. 

VALENTINE.  Come,  Miss  Livvy,  you  are  in 
my  hands. 

PHOEBE.     I  decline.     I  am  most  determined. 

VALENTINE.  Y^ou  admit  yourself  that  you  are 
recovered. 


138  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

PHOEBE.     I  do  not  feel  so  well  now.     Aunt 
Susan ! 

MISS  SUSAN.     Sir 

VALENTINE.    If  you  wish  to  consult  Miss 
Phoebe- 
Miss  SUSAN.    Oh,  no. 

VALENTINE.     Then  the  wraps,  Miss  Susan. 
PHOEBE.     Auntie,  don't  leave  me. 
VALENTINE.     What  a  refractory  patient  it  is. 
But  reason  with  her,  Miss  Susan,  and  I  shall  ask 
Miss  Phoebe  for  some  wraps. 
PHOEBE.     Sir ! 

(To  their  consternation  he  goes  clieerily 
into  the  bedroom.  MISS  PHOEBE  saves 
herself  by  instant  flight,  and  nothing  but 
mesmeric  influence  keeps  MISS  SUSAN 
rooted  to  the  blue  and  white  room.  When 
he  returns  he  is  loaded  with  wraps,  and 
still  cheerfully  animated,  as  if  he  had 
found  nothing  untoward  in  LIWY'S  bed- 
chamber.} 

VALENTINE.     I  think  these  will  do  admirably, 
Miss  Susan. 

MISS  SUSAN.     But  Phoebe 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  139 

VALENTINE.  If  I  swathe  Miss  Livvy  in 
these— 

MISS  SUSAN.     Phoebe 

VALENTINE.  She  is  still  busy  airing  the  room. 
(The  extraordinary  man  goes  to  the  couch  as  if 
unable  to  perceive  that  its  late  occupant  has  gone, 
and  MISS  SUSAN  watches  him,  fascinated. )  Come, 
Miss  Liwy,  put  these  over  you.  Allow  me — 
this  one  over  your  shoulders,  so.  Be  so  obliging 
as  to  lean  on  me.  Be  brave,  ma'am,  you 
cannot  fall — my  arm  is  round  you;  gently, 
gently,  Miss  Livvy;  ah,  that  is  better;  we  are 
doing  famously;  come,  come.  ^  Good-bye,  Miss 
Susan,  I  will  take  every  care  of  her. 

(He  has  gone,  with  the  bundle  on  his  arm, 
but  MISS  SUSAN  does  not  wake  up.  Even 
the  banging  of  the  outer  door  is  unable  to 
rouse  her.  It  is  heard,  however,  by  MISS 
PHOEBE,  who  steals  back  into  the  room, 
her  cap  upon  her  head  to  give  her 
courage.) 

PHOEBE.  He  is  gone!  (MISS  SUSAN'S  rapt 
face  alarms  her.)  Oh,  Susan,  was  he  as  dreadful 
as  that? 


140  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

MISS  SUSAN  (in  tones  unnatural  to  her).  Phoebe, 
he  knows  all. 

PHOEBE.  Yes,  of  course  he  knows  all  now. 
Sister,  did  his  face  change?  Oh,  Susan,  what 
did  he  say  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  He  said  'Good-bye,  Miss 
Susan.'  That  was  almost  all  he  said. 

PHOEBE.     Did  his  eyes  flash  fire  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  it  was  what  he  did. 
He — he  took  Livvy  with  him. 

PHOEBE.  Susan,  dear,  don't  say  that.  You 
are  not  distraught,  are  you  ? 

MISS  SUSAN  (clinging  to  facts).  He  did;  he 
wrapped  her  up  in  a  shawl. 

PHOEBE.  Susan !  You  are  Susan  Throssel, 
my  love.  You  remember  me,  don't  you? 
Phoebe,  your  sister.  I  was  Liwy  also,  you 
know,  Liwy. 

MISS  SUSAN.     He  took  Liwy  with  him. 

PHOEBE  (in  woe).  Oh,  oh!  sister,  who  am 
I? 

MESS  SUSAN.     You  are  Phoebe. 

PHOEBE.     And  who  was  Liwy? 

MISS  SUSAN.     You  were. 


iv.j  QUALITY  STREET  141 

PHOEBE.     Thank  heaven. 

MISS  SUSAN.  But  he  took  her  away  in  the 
carriage. 

PHOEBE.  Oh,  dear !  (She  has  quite  forgotten  her 
own  troubles  now.)  Susan,  you  will  soon  be  well 
again.  Dear,  let  us  occupy  our  minds.  Shall 
we  draw  up  the  advertisement  for  the  reopening 
of  the  school  ? 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  do  so  hate  the  school. 

PHOEBE.  Come,  dear,  come,  sit  down.  Write, 
Susan.  (Dictating.)  'The  Misses  Throssel  have 
the  pleasure  to  announce ' 

MISS  SUSAN.     Pleasure !    Oh,  Phoebe. 

PHOEBE.  'That  they  will  resume  school  on 
the  5th  of  next  month.  Music,  embroidery, 
the  backboard,  and  all  the  elegancies  of  the 
mind.  ,  Latin — shall  we  say  algebra?' 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  refuse  to  write  algebra. 

PHOEBE.     — for  beginners. 

MISS  SUSAN.  I  refuse.  There  is  only  one 
thing  I  can  write;  it  writes  itself  in  my  head  all 
day.  'Miss  Susan  Throssel  presents  her  com- 
pliments to  the  Misses  Willoughby  and  Miss 
Henrietta  Turnbull,  and  requests  the  honour  of 


142  QUALITY  STREET  [ACT 

their  presence   at   the   nuptials   of  her   sister 
Phoebe  and  Captain  Valentine  Brown.' 

PHOEBE.     Susan ! 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe!  (A  door  is  heard 
banging.}  He  has  returned  ! 

PHOEBE.  Oh  cruel,  cruel.  Susan,  I  am  so 
alarmed. 

MISS  SUSAN.     I  will  face  him. 

PHOEBE.     Nay,  if  it  must  be,  I  will. 

(But  when  he  enters  he  is  not  very  terrible.) 

VALENTINE.  Miss  Phoebe,  it  is  not  raining, 
but  your  face  is  wet.  I  wish  always  to  kiss  you 
when  your  face  is  wet. 

PHOEBE.     Susan ! 

VALENTINE.  Miss  Liwy  will  never  trouble 
you  any  more,  Miss  Susan.  I  have  sent  her 
home. 

MISS  SUSAN.  Oh,  sir,  how  can  you  invent  such 
a  story  for  us. 

VALENTINE.  I  did  not.  I  invented  it  for  the 
Misses  Willoughby  and  Miss  Henrietta,  who 
from  their  windows  watched  me  put  her  into  my 
carriage.  Patty  accompanies  her,  and  in  a  few 
hours  Patty  will  return  alone. 


iv.]  QUALITY  STREET  143 

MISS  SUSAN.  Phoebe,  he  has  got  rid  of 
Livvy ! 

PHOEBE.     Susan,  his  face  hasn't  changed ! 

VALENTINE.  Dear  Phoebe  Throssel,  will  you 
be  Phoebe  Brown  ? 

PHOEBE  (quivering).  You  know  everything? 
And  that  I  am  not  a  garden  ? 

VALENTINE.  I  know  everything,  ma'am — 
except  that. 

PHOEBE  (so  very  glad  to  be  prim  at  the  end). 
Sir,  the  dictates  of  my  heart  enjoin  me  to  accept 
your  too  flattering  offer.  (He  puts  her  cap  in  his 
pocket.  He  kisses  her.  MISS  SUSAN  is  about 
to  steal  away.)  Oh,  sir,  Susan  also.  (He  kisses 
MISS  SUSAN  also;  and  here  we  bid  them  good-bye.) 

The  End. 


DATE  DUE 


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